


Once A Wraith

by adeclanfan



Series: OnceAWraith!verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal, Angst, Gap Filler, Gen, Hoth (Star Wars), Light Bondage, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Polyamory, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Romance, Sabacc, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24351748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adeclanfan/pseuds/adeclanfan
Summary: Wedge announces he is leaving Rogue Squadron to accept a post as aide to Admiral Ackbar and leaving Rogue Squadron in Tycho's hands. Wes has to face his feelings for Wedge which have been building since they started Wraith Squadron, and an attraction to his new CO he doesn't expect to feel. Wedge and Tycho discover they don't really know Wes Janson, at all. Throw them into a Sabacc tournament with too much alcohol, great food and well meaning busy-body Rogues and Wraiths and all hell breaks loose with the future happiness of three Rogues at stake.Bonus Chapter Added 10/14/2020
Relationships: Tycho Celchu/Winter, Wedge Antilles & Tycho Celchu, Wedge Antilles & Wes Janson, Wedge Antilles & Wes Janson & Tycho Celchu, Wedge Antilles/Tycho Celchu, Wedge Antilles/Tycho Celchu/Wes Janson, Wedge Antilles/Tycho Celchu/Winter, Wedge Antilles/Wes Janson
Series: OnceAWraith!verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023847
Comments: 31
Kudos: 12





	1. Prologue - Good news, Bad news

The apartment door’s chime caught him off guard, and Wes Janson reached to quickly turn off the heat to the skillet. He abandoned his evening meal of spicy grilled Nerf and wiped his hands on a length of toweling hung from a wall hook beside the sink. Self-conscious of the fact his dark hair was still damp from his recent shower and he was clad in his most comfortable, if somewhat tattered, lounge pants and sleeveless tunic, Wes wished he’d had some warning, so he could have changed.

The very last person he would have expected to find at his doorstep after a long day smiled sheepishly at him from the hallway, “Wes. I’m glad you’re in.” It was at his awkward pause when Wedge Antilles, General and CO of Rogue Squadron seemed to notice Wes’ attire and a cleared his throat, “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” 

Another longer, but no less awkward, hesitation and when Wes didn’t respond, Wedge pressed on, “I have news and I wanted to give you a heads up before the briefing in the morning.”

Wes could have allowed his friend continue to stammer in the hallway for another few minutes in his adorably earnest way, but it was the first time in memory Wedge had appeared unannounced at Wes’ door and his curiosity was piqued. His residence was listed in his personnel file, of course, but nobody except Hobbie had ever been a guest at his place. 

Stepping back, Wes gestured for Wedge to enter, “I’m not entertaining, if that’s what you mean. Come in, Wedge. Please.” 

Janson proceeded to run into the back of him when Wedge stopped dead in his tracks. They were half a dozen paces into the apartment at the end of the small tiled foyer separating the entryway from the plushly carpeted living area to the left and a half wall counter with a pair of tall barstools from the food prep area on the right. 

“Did you have food delivered? Something smells delicious.” Wedge’s tone, and the lowering pitch of his voice, made Wes feel a swell of pride, smug pride. Wedge was not wrong. Now that he’d come back into the apartment from the open door into the hallway, the heavenly aroma of the spices and meat wafting from his cooking did smell good enough to make his stomach growl. 

Wes stepped around the other man and pointed to one of the barstools, “Have a seat. I was just about done, and there’s more than enough for two.” A slight frown creased Wes’ brow as he turned the heat back on and finished adding the sauce and stirring. “Why did you go off base without eating something?”

Wedge was surveying Wes’ living quarters with a slightly puzzled expression, and Wes was glad the cleaning service had come in this morning. 

“Meeting with Akbar ran later than I expected. I planned to stop off for something on my way home. I felt like this couldn’t wait.” Those eyes met Wes’ own as the General now took in the way Wes was heaping fluffy white grain onto a pair of plates and covering each with vegetables, grilled meat and sauce. “You didn’t cook that. You warmed it and tossed the containers.” It was a statement. 

Wes placed a plate in front of each of their places at the counter and turned around to pull a couple of chilled bottles of Lomin ale out of the refrigeration unit, popping the tops and offering one to Wedge, who nodded his thanks. 

Patiently waiting for his guest to take the first bite, Wes took a pull of his ale and slid onto his stool, giving Wedge time to take a bite before turning an intent eye to gauging Wedge’s reaction. He really needn't have bothered to search the other man’s face for the look of ecstasy he knew would be there. The moan that escaped between Wedge’s parted lips was indication enough as to how the Corellian’s tastebuds were responding to Janson’s culinary efforts. 

Wedge took another bite and this moan was nearly a growl. Waving the now empty utensil in Wes’ direction, Wedge sighed still chewing, “Will you at least tell me the name of the place? I thought we were friends. Friends don’t hold out on great food.”

Struggling to hide the amusement, Wes dug in to his food. He really was hungry, and no amount of fun at Wedge’s expense was worth eating cold food. 

“Wes.”

Waving his utensil toward the recycler, Wes told him, “You won’t find containers in the recycler, except those for the nerf and the vegetables.” Wes grinned. “I cooked this.” He stabbed another tender bite of spiced meat, chewed it and nodded in satisfaction. “I’m not a bad cook. Had to be, growing up with six younger siblings.” 

Wedge blinked once slowly, truly stunned speechless by the revelation.

“And I like it. It’s relaxing,” Wes defended his efforts and his creation. 

He eyed Wedge’s nearly empty plate. A lone slice of nerf all that was left. “Hobbs doesn’t like this. Too spicy for his delicate palate.” And the last meat was gone before Wes was finished speaking. 

That brought Wedge up short, his bottle paused halfway to his lips. “Derek knows you can cook?” Wedge’s eyes narrowed further as he added, “Like this…” He grunted and took a long pull on the bottle. “And he never bothered to mention this to anyone?!”

Wes nodded. “Not if he wants me to cook anything for him. Ever. Again.” There was steel behind his words.

“Why hide a talent from the rest of the squadron? From your friends?” There was more than a hint of accusation in the question.

Baring his teeth in a not smile, Janson stated, “I’ve thought this through. Word gets out I have a skill, even a small one boosted by some culinary classes when I was younger, and I’m done for. The next time the Rogues find themselves stuck in some backwater cesspit, as we tend to do more often than not. Who will the Rogues cajole and bully into doing the majority share of the pilot feeding?” Wes crossed his arms over his broad chest, muscles flexing. “The one who makes the stuff that tastes good.”

Wedge didn’t look pleased, but he conceded the point with a sigh. “Well, since your cooking was to my benefit tonight, let me at least do the washing up.”

“Not necessary. I have a droid for that.” At Wedge’s surprise, Wes shrugged. “I like to cook. Never said I like getting my hands all chapped with hot, soapy water. And it’s not like I’m here much. Scrubs is helpful.” 

As much as Wes was enjoying Wedge in his personal space, there was a reason Wedge had come here tonight. “So what’s so important it couldn’t wait until the briefing tomorrow morning at oh-too-early hours?” 

When Wedge hesitated, Wes figured it was time to pull out the big guns. He went to a side cupboard and poured them each a generous helping of amber courage. He held the glass out to Wedge, but pulled it back before the other man’s fingers connected with the crystal. “Sit, Wedge, please. Tell me what’s going on. My gut is saying I’m not going to like it, so don’t dance around. Just tell me straight.”

“I’m leaving Rogue Squadron.”

Wes considered this. “Temporary assignment? Some top secret mission or new squadron to form?” He handed the drink to Wedge and took a seat beside him on the dark brown, nerf leather couch. His mind was spewing questions at light speed, and he had to take a deep breath and force himself to focus on the most important ones.

“No. I have to believe this is going to stick. Akbar has been after me to become one of his aides for ages. It was the reason he’s bullied and bribed and cajoled me since the Rogues reformed.” 

“When?”

“It will take a few days for the transfer orders to be completed.”

“Tycho going to be offered the command?”

“Yes. I couldn’t ask for a better man to follow me, and he’s more than earned it.”

Wes nodded, a strange numbness settling in his chest where air should have been going in and out of his lungs, but didn’t seem to want to. “Ah, and for XO?”

Wedge shrugged, “I’m going to leave that to Tycho. It’s his command and he needs to arrange things to best suit him, going forward.” Wedge sighed, “The two ranking officers under Tycho are, of course, Hobbie and you, Wes.”

“Hobbie has XO’d for Tycho before.”

“And you have an equal amount of Executive Officer experience, under much more challenging circumstances, when it came to creating and training up Wraith Squadron with me.” Wedge patted his bare bicep. “I didn’t want this to blind side you tomorrow.”

Wes nodded, gulping amber liquid and letting it burn its way down. Too much like the way Wedge’s hand burned the skin of his arm. “So you want this?”

“No, not at all," Wedge assured him. "It takes me away from the Rogues and flying. If there were any other way, I would not be considering this. I’m convinced the New Republic needs me to be more than I am currently, though. Needs non-partisan, apolitical voices to be heard. Starfighter Command must be more than numbers and stats in reports. Someone has to make sure the politicians remember we are people and not just flying machines.” 

Wes winced, “Sounds awful.”

“Pretty much.” Wedge tried to lighten the mood with a small smile. “Did I mention I like your place here?” He waved a hand at Wes’ living room. “This is not at all what I expected. I like it.” 

Wes felt a burn of pride in the sanctuary he’d created for himself. He’d gone with pricy, but well worth it, leather furniture paired with walls in muted tones of browns and golds and an accent color of deep blue. The space was perfect for relaxing between missions and watching some holos, and the view was good as well from the 54th level of the building. 

A smile tugged at the corners of Wes’ lips. “Like I said. I don’t spend all that much time here.” A though occurred to Wes, “Does Hobbs know?”

“I couldn’t find him.” Wedge looked a tad sheepish. “Like I said, the meeting ran long while we hammered out the details of what my new duties will and won’t entail.”

“I don’t like change,” Wes stated, glumly. “I just got back to the Rogues, and you have to leave us.”

Wedge smiled, again. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll tell Hobbs. So he doesn’t walk into this blind.” Wes met Wedge’s eyes, “With your permission, of course, General.” 

“Please don’t…”

“Don’t tell him?”

“Don’t go evasive on me and use my rank to distance yourself from what you are feeling.” There was a pleading edge to his tone.

Wes looked away. “That obvious. Huh?” 

“To me. After all we’ve been through in the last year or so together, yeah.”

“I hate this. There is nothing about this I can get behind.”

Wedge nodded, “You aren’t the only one. Believe me. Tycho is sick with it. I had a wild hope the two of you might support each other through the transition. I know you can rub each other the wrong way, but Tycho respects you. If you wanted it, I know he would accept you and support you as his XO.”

“Hobbie can have it.” Wes hated the way the words came out sounding like a petulant child on the verge of a tantrum. That sort of behavior from him would just make things harder on Wedge and Tycho. Wes didn’t want that. 

Wedge frowned, “Just like that?” A hint of suspicion narrowed his eyes, “You don’t even want to take a day to consider it?”

“Hobbie was fine as the Colonel’s XO. They’ve put the time in.”

“You’ve put just as much time in, Wes.” Wedge insisted, “The squad is going to need a new pilot. You excel at selecting and training up new pilots.” 

Wedge may have meant those last words to be an enticement, but instead they made the food and alcohol in Wes’ belly roil unpleasantly. 

“You, my friend, have a gift for training.”

Wes sighed, not wanting to get into a fight with Wedge. He’d enjoyed feeding him and having him in his home too much to wreck it all now over this particular topic, which was a sore spot he really didn’t want Wedge to know had never healed for him. 

Janson only poked at the achy bruised spot Talon Squadron held in his soul when he was really drunk, and completely alone. It was the best way. 

Donos was alive and well and flying with the Rogues, so everything had worked out. Right? And if he kept an extra close eye on Donos on missions it wasn’t because he was worried Donos was a tipped turbolaser. Janson knew that wasn't the case. It was natural to feel protectiveness toward a new Rogue, right? In a way, they were new together in this re-formed Rogue Squadron.

“What was that look for?” Wedge asked.

Wes tried for innocence, and shrugged, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Uh huh.” The General leaned in closer to Wes to scrutinize his blank face. “I’ve learned at least three new things about you tonight.” His hand came up to pat Wes on the shoulder, and stayed there. “You’ve surprised me.”

“Yub, yub, General.” 

“Not being your commanding officer has one point in it’s favor.”

“No more practical jokes?” Wes offered.

Wedge shook his head, “I love your practical jokes.”

“No more snide running commentary during early morning mission briefings?” 

Wedge smiled, shaking his head ruefully. “And l love your commentary in the briefings.” The hand that had taken up residence on Wes’ shoulder slid away, fingers briefly skimming Wes’ stubbled jaw. 

“You’re not going to just leave it at that, are you?” Wes accused, scowling. 

Wedge cleared his throat, “I think we should circle back to this topic when the paperwork is finalized.” He stood and stretched. “Dinner was great, thank you.”

“A hint? Something?”

The General hesitated, then leaned forward and planted a long, whiskey flavored kiss on Wes’ parted lips. 

When Wedge pulled back from their first ever kiss, and started to straighten up, Wes was very aware how his friend’s pupils were dilated until only a thin ring of changeable brown-green-gold color surrounded his irises. Wes’ hand shot out to fist in the front of Wedge’s vest, but Wedge had anticipated this and danced back so his grab missed, and Wes’ fingertips only grazed Wedge’s shirt before his hand fell back to his lap. 

Eyes hardening at the challenge, he started to come up off the couch to give chase, but Wedge raised a hand, palm toward him, and his hard tone stopped Wes. “Don’t get up. That was your hint. And as I said, we will circle back when a discussion would be more … appropriate.”

“Until then?”

“A word of advice. Getting drunk will only give you a miserable hangover headache for what is already going to be a hard day ahead.”

“You’re probably right,” Wes admitted.

“Goodnight, Wes.”

“Goodnight, Wedge.”

When Wedge was almost to the door, Wes heard himself blurt out, “I love you,” and clamped a hand over his mouth in shock at what he’d just said.

This brought Wedge to a stop, but he didn’t turn around, “I know.” 

And then he was gone.

When the door slid closed behind Wedge’s retreating form, Wes had to close his eyes against the burn of tears. The small amount of whiskey left his glass was not going to be much help. A whole bottle wouldn't help this. 

Wedge kissed him, and he’d just told one of his best friends he loved him.


	2. Chapter One - Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All good things must come to an end.

“Well. that’s… interesting, ” Gavin Darklighter mumbled under his breath to Corran Horn, seated at his right in the small briefing auditorium for Wedge’s big announcement.

“What?” The other man glanced at him. “They weren’t going to let Wedge stay just a Squadron Commander forever. Ranks have to move up.”

“Not the announcement itself. I mean, I think you’re right. Everyone has heard those rumors since Wedge made General. What is interesting is their reactions.” The youngest member of Rogue Squadron tipped his head in the direction of Majors’ Janson and Klivian. “Hobbie looks like someone kicked him in the head, but Wes is a complete rock, absolutely stone faced.”

“So, Wes has known about this long enough to get his Sabacc face on and Hobbie probably found out five minutes before we did.”

They both turned their attention to the man standing beside Wedge, Colonel Tycho Celchu, the most-times XO, sometimes temporary leader of Rogue Squadron. “I hate this, Corran. Even the Colonel looks sad,” Gavin added.”It takes a lot to make him look sad.” 

“I’m sad,” the Corellian pilot admitted. 

Gavin was light-years beyond sad. The most important person in Gavin's world since he joined the Rogues was leaving, not for a temporary assignment, but for good. HIs galaxy revolved around the fixed point that was Wedge Antilles. "Get a grip, Darklighter. Wedge isn't dying," Gavin told himself under his breath. "He's getting a promotion." 

"Right. And I'm sure we'll see him around," Corran agreed. 

Corran was right and this gave him an idea. Gavin raised a hand to get Wedge's attention, which always worked if he had a question during a briefing.

"You have a question, Gavin?" The General acknowledged him, immediately.

"Yes, sir." He took a deep breath and pushed the sick feeling into a box and closed the lid on it. Someone had to turn this into the celebration it should be and not a wake. "Will your new position include a big pay raise, Sir?"

All eyes focused on him as Wedge frowned at his very personal question, "Ah... well, maybe a modest bump in salary. Why?"

"Will it take effect before this weekend's Sabacc tournament?" It was a lame attempt at humor. There would be no relief from the usual comic team of Klivian and Janson today. Someone had to step up, he knew, and it was exactly what they needed to crack the tension and general unhappiness in the room. 

"My finances are stable enough to weather a few hits at the Sabacc table, rest assured." The smile Wedge offered him was warm, affectionate and dare he imagine it was a bit... grateful. 

Gavin knew he'd done good. 

"Not like you'll be seeing any of those credits, Gav. My husband is the reigning King of the Sabacc tourney," Rhysati boasted, the Rogue and wife of Twi’lek ex-pilot Nawara Ven grinning happily. 

Corran coughed to cover a laugh, "Just for that, I'm going to spot young Darklighter twenty credits."

"Seconded." That came from Colonel Celchu. 

Major Klivian nodded, "I'm in, too." He elbowed Janson in the ribs and the other man sighed, "Yes, okay. We will fund the ambitious youngster, and when he leaves us someday to join the profession Sabacc circuit, he will repay us by winning enough to provide for us in our old age."

"When are you leaving, Sir?" Inyri Forge asked. 

"It'll be about two days until the paperwork is processed, and it's not like I won't be around after, so don't think I'm going to drop off the galactic map. The upcoming Sabacc tournament is a good example, I'm Corellian and what Corellian worth his whiskey would ever turn down a chance to show his superiority? I just... I want you to understand. There's only one of me. I can't do the things I need to do for all pilots and still give you the leader you deserve."

Someone mumbled, "Clones." And the Rogues laughed. Wedge shuddered and they laughed some more. 

"You know you can come to me if you ever need anything. Any one of you. Anytime. My door will always be open." He looked at each Rogue in turn, making eye contact. "I'm leaving you in the best possible hands. There is no one I trust more." He patted Colonel Celchu on the arm. 

Tycho nodded, "I'm not Wedge. I can't fill his shoes, nobody can. Things aren't going to be the same; they can't be and they shouldn't be. What will be the same is all of you, Rogue Squadron. And what we do. That never changes. I will say I am superior to the General in one thing... I don't feel the need to do every kriffing thing myself. I know how to delegate authority. I work..." His teeth bared in an almost grin, "you get to work. too. And if I have to come bail your sorry backsides out of some brig at 0300 hours some morning, I will. Of course, I will." He turned a hard eye to Janson and Klivian, "Rest assured, I will make you suffer greatly for my loss of sleep."

"Wes," Klivian mock whispered. "The man is scaring me." 

Wes looked Tycho Celchu and shrugged. "You're only figuring this out now, Hobbs, my friend? He's scared the sithspit outta me since Hoth."

Gavin needed to know. "What happened on Hoth, Major?" He loved to hear the stories from that time, soaked them up like a sponge on Hutt drool.

Wes shook his head, sadly, "If I had a few drinks in me, for courage, I might be able to tell you. Maybe some other time." There was something in the look that passed between the two senior officers just then that made Gavin think Wes wasn't entirely joking. 

The meeting broke up with everyone surrounding Wedge to give him handshakes and back slapping hugs. 

Inyri hugged Gavin, too. "You... thank you. I swear Gavin, someday it's going to be you they're all congratulating. I'd put a hundred credits on it. And I'm giving you fifty for the tourney. We are going to work on your Sabacc face."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Janson."

Wes looked up from the datapad he was reading and saw Colonel Celchu had entered the Pilot's Lounge with his own datapad in hand. "Sir?" He leaned forward to start to get up, but Tycho waved a hand dismissively. "Don't get up." 

The Colonel took a seat in one of the comfortable, if worn, high-backed chairs opposite Wes' couch. "I was going over the list for XO and your request seems to be missing. Care to explain?"

"Well, it isn't there because I didn't transmit said request."

The other man's held tilted slightly and his gaze narrowed just a fraction, scrutinizing him. "Why not?"

Janson shrugged. "I'm good where I am." And he was. That was the simple truth. He'd had more work and more responsibility with the training squadrons and with the Wraiths and he just wanted to be one of the Rogues. "I'll keep my head down and my mouth shut. You have my word."

"So you'll be someone other than yourself." 

The Rogue commander's comment put Wes on the defensive. "I can stay out of trouble if I want to." He crossed his arms defensively. "All of this is transitional stuff is hard enough without giving you added grief."

"This isn't the right place for this discussion." Tycho stood up. "Finish your drink and join me in my office."

Wes nodded, "Yes, sir." He'd said it carefully and meant it respectfully, but there was no mistaking the other's cool regard and the tightness of his jaw, before he spun on his heel in a very military fashion and stalked away. Janson downed the last few sips in one burning gulp and coughed a bit for his trouble. 

As soon as the door to Tycho's office closed behind him, Wes blurted out, "That wasn't meant to be disrespectful. I swear." 

Tycho was standing behind the desk. Wedge's desk. Blue eyes blinked once, slowly, and then Tycho's crossed his arms his arms over his chest, mimicking Wes' earlier defensive posture. "So, let me see if I'm tracking this... not only are you going to pretend to be someone else for my tenure as Commanding Officer of Rogue Squadron. You're doing it as a sop to placate me, or some misguided sense you need to behave yourself around me, or what? I'll drop kick you from the Rogues?" His voice had risen and Wes was glad they were alone. 

Pilots talked. Pilots gossiped like his teenage sisters having a sleep-over party. 

Slumping back against the closed door, Janson felt the burn of the other man's anger all the way across the room. "No. I don't know. I don't think you'd dump me from the Rogues, but you could do something, like make the recommendation I go back to training squad duty." 

Shavit, Wes thought. This whole conversation was going to hell in a blasted hand-basket. 

Tycho came around the desk and Wes felt the urge to run away. He almost never felt the urge to run away from something, or someone. When there was less than a meter of space between them, the Colonel said, with a calm that belayed the heat in his eyes, "First, I knew what I was getting, who I was getting, when I accepted this position. Please. I'm fully aware of your... eccentricities. I don't need or want you to alter who you are to suit me. Be yourself. I promise you I can handle it."

"This transition is hard. Hardest for you, most of all. I don't want to make it harder for you."

"Second," the Alderaanian snapped, leaning in until their noses almost touched. "You do not need to coddle me. And if I so much as think for a minute you are trying to manage me, I will give you so much extra drudge work to do, you will barely be able to crawl into your bunk at night to pass out from exhaustion." 

Janson opened his mouth to reply and got Tycho's finger across his lips stalling out his reply. "My Roster says Major Wes Janson, and he better start showing up. Smart mouth, wise-cracks, practical jokes and all. Or I will send a team in to extract him. Sithspawn, Wes. Were you kriffing serious about my having scared you at some point on Hoth?" 

Wes was having a hard time following the other man and it was then he realized he was breathing heavily, kinda panting. No... hyperventilating. Yes, angry Tycho Celchu was fearsome. It took a lot to rile the normally cool and calculated Colonel, but it was only about half of Wes' admitted over-reaction. The rest was just as present in this moment as it had been on Hoth. Pissed off Tycho was... Like the nuclear reaction in a sun. 

Running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration, Tycho stepped back a pace and gave Wes some much needed breathing space. Wes didn't realized he'd made such an obvious sigh of relief until the other man rolled his eyes. "You're a bigger guy than I am, Wes. You work out more. You have to know I wouldn't hurt you. The idea is ludicrous... It's idiotic."

"Ouch."

"Look. Whatever happened on Hoth. I'm sorry, okay? I don't remember any falling out between us. But, to be honest, I don't remember much at all about my early weeks with the Rebellion at Hoth. I was an unholy mess after I defected. It took a while to get my head on straight. It took some harsh words from Wedge to get my head on straight and I can admit that." The first crack in Tycho Celchu's carefully plastered on facade appeared, just like that, before Wes' eyes. It was sinking in, Wedge was gone. Had been gone for two whole days, now.

When Tycho noticed Wes had seen the moment of vulnerability which accompanied the words, he turned away, retreating to a safe distance behind his desk. From the bottom drawer, he pulled a bottle of Whyren's Reserve and a pair of crystal glasses, filling them both half way.

At Wes' smirk, the Colonel shrugged. "He left it as a welcome gift with a note."

There was an uncomfortable burning behind Janson's eyes and he closed them to make it stop. When he opened them again, Tycho was standing three paces from him holding out a glass. Wes took it and wet his dry mouth with it. "Wedge said Corellian whiskey wasn't the answer."

"Sometimes Wedge is an idiot, too," he said with a mirthless chuckle. "When exactly did he say this?"

"At my apartment, when he came to tell me he was leaving. Wedge has never just showed up before."

Tycho nodded. "You cooked dinner for him."

"I cooked dinner for me," the Major harrumphed. "Wedge happened upon my food at a fortuitous moment." Wes eyed him suspiciously. "How did you know about it?"

The other man shrugged, "Wedge told me. He tells me everything."

"Everything?!" Wes asked, flushing red with the memory. 

Tycho smirked at him and continued to sip his drink. "He didn't tell me anything else happened, but judging by your reaction... something did."

"I'm not getting stuck with kitchen duty just because I can cook," Wes deftly changed the subject. 

"There's one sure way to get out of kitchen duty, Major." He took the empty glass from Wes' hand, "XO's don't have kitchen duty." 

Wes glared. "Huh."

"You distracted me. I never got to number three." At Wes' wince, he shook his head. "It can wait. You're free to go."

Not having to be told twice, Wes sketched a salute and bolted for the door.


	3. Questions, Answers and More Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rogues + Wraiths + Sabacc Tournament + Mirax's Secret Recipe Punch = Chaos. Mentions of Wes/Dack.

"Quiet, please," Mirax Terrik raised her voice, calling out for attention from the assembled pilots and guests in the base's main recreation center. She waited for the roar to subside to a low rumble and figured it was probably the best she was going to get under the circumstances. High spirits were what the bi-annual base Sabacc tournament was all about. "Thank you," she flashed the crowd a grin. "For those who have never been to one of our tournaments, I want to thank you for coming today to support Starfighter Command's Widows and Orphans Fund. I'll give you the basic ground rules in just a minute."

Her attention turned to the clusters of pilots from Rogue, Wraith and half a dozen other Squadrons. With a long-suffering sigh, she shook her head fondly and sent her long dark hair swinging around her shoulders, at their manic eagerness. They practically buzzed with it. "You lot are here to earn bragging rights for the next six months, to drink more than you can handle, and catch up with old friends. For this night, you are free to speak and interact without restriction. All rank insignias are to be left at the door, as I've been assured this event is no decor." 

A cheer went up, and for a time she let it. To regain their attention, Mirax clapped her hands twice, silence followed. "Now, the rules are simple. Everyone draws a token from my bag on the way in. The tokens will have your table number. Numbers are randomly generated for each round. Although," she mused aloud, "last year had me wondering if the generator had a glitch designed to keep too many Corellians from ending up at the same tables.

"As in the past, the tournament will consist of five rounds, rounds one through four are the best of three hands. First round the lowest scoring player at each table is eliminated. Second and third rounds the lowest two players at each table are eliminated. Fourth round only the winners from each table go to the final round. An intermission will take place between the second and third rounds for food, socializing and dancing. If you are eliminated, please proceed into the ballroom where you can begin the drinking and gossiping ahead of everyone else.

"The good news is, we've got the largest turnout we've ever had this year. To cope with the vast amounts of food I expect you to consume, a message was sent to all players two days ago about a new contest we've implemented this year. Everyone was encouraged to bring a dish in anonymous wrappings for the buffet. Each dish was given a number and everyone will vote on the best. The winner..." MIrax paused for dramatic effect. "I"m not going to tell you what the prize is just yet, but it's excellent." 

"No!" Hobbie gasped, loudly enough to be heard over the murmurs of dozens of other shocked and dismayed voices. "That's not right." He turned, expression as mournful as ever, and banged his forehead once against the wall. "I knew I shoulda brought something." 

"Yeah," Corran told him. "You shoulda."

Hobbie leveled a finger at him. "Did you know about this, Horn?!" 

The Corellian Rogue frowned, "Nope."

"But.. but she's your wife," Hobbie whined. 

Corran chuckled, shaking his head sadly. "And her announcement is just as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. Do I look like I can do anything more than boil water at a food prep station?"

MIrax smiled at her husband, and patted his arm. "I did ask if you wanted to stop somewhere on the way to the rec center and grab food, didn't I?"

"Devious," Corran growled at her, playfully.

His wife winked at him, "Guilt as charged, Corsec."

Mirax rattled the bag of tokens. "Who's ready to play some cut-throat Sabacc?" The roar from the assembled gamblers was nearly deafening. "Let's get this party started..."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"What?!" Wes huffed, not unkindly, at Gavin Darklighter. It was only the first round, the second hand in, and Gavin had been staring at him expectantly when he wasn't looking at his own Sabacc cards. 

The younger man had the good grace to blush. "I bought you a drink."

"Yes, you did, and I appreciate it. Thank you."

"Will you tell the story of what happened between you and the Colonel on Hoth?" Gavin asked, like an eager pup looking for a treat.

Wes rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. "Why?"

"You were with the Rogues for an age before the reformation and my joining up. You're back, and I want to know more about you."

Eyes narrowing, Wes asked, "Did you grill Hobbie when he came back, too? Or am I especially mysterious?"

From the next table, Hobbie spoke up, "Oh, he did. Followed me for weeks firing off questions as fast as he can fire his laser cannons. Once I started asking him embarrassing questions back, he got the holo and restrained himself to maybe one question per week." 

Wes nodded, "MY turn." He turned his attention back to Gavin. "Ask me something else. Anything else. If you make it through the second round, you'll have earned the Hoth story."

Gavin looked dejected. "We won't be at the same table next round."

"During the break, alright?" 

"I would take the offer, Gavin," Inryr Forge said from his right. "Ask something else. There are all sorts of other tidbits of intel we can gather on Janson. And Wes isn't sloshed enough yet to be completely honest with us."

Wes squinted, wrinkling his nose at them. "HEY."

On the other side of Inyri, Runt from the Wraiths nodded enthusiastically, "We have many questions we would ask. Wes did not socialize with us much; he was too busy trying to teach us to not die." He shook his head shaggy head regretfully. "There is little he has told us about himself and we have learned it is considered impolite to slice into databases and records to learn about ones' comrades."

Rolling his eyes at Runt, Wes offered Gavin a shrug. "Shoot."

"I guess." Gavin put all his effort into arranging his cards, and just about the time Wes thought the kid had given up, the young pilot asked, if a bit sheepishly, "Do you have siblings back home on Tanaab?"

Wes took a sip of the brandy Gavin bought for him and nodded, "Six."

"You're kidding. Six. Really? Do they all look like you?"

Smirking, Janson nodded emphatically, "Every kriffing one of them. Sometimes, people stop us on the street and ask if we are clones." The table erupted in laughter at Janson's reply, and Wes shook his head. "I'm the oldest of seven. I have four sisters and two brothers." He hunched his broad shoulders and glared at his hand as he discarded a good card. "Both my parents have dark hair and dark eyes, so I suppose we look alike. I haven't really thought much about it, but genetics is genetics."

"Janson has brothers," breathed an adorable and still green pilot from Nova Squad, Wes thought her name might be Kendii, and she whistled.

Wes held up a hand, "Before you plot that jump, darlin', my brothers are only eight and eleven. They won't be ready to break your heart for many years." Wes waggled his eyebrows at her. "You don't need them, anyway. You have big brother, the original."

The cute blonde pilot shook her head. "Pass."

"Your loss, of course." Wes grinned at her and discarded another card, picked one up from the discards. 

Gavin asked, "Are your sisters closer to your age?"

"Yes."

"Do you have holos of them?" Gavin persisted.

Grumbling the whole time, Wes reached into his back pocket, pulled out the black Nerf-hide wallet he kept there. He rifled through some flimsy sheets and handed a few of the best ones to Gavin. 

"Wow," the young Rogue gasped. "They are so... wow. Do they ever come to Coruscant to visit you?"

"I like you, kid. I do." Wes lowered his voice to a near whisper. "I'd hate to have to shoot you for flirting with one of my little sisters."

"Oh, the irony is vaping me," Inyri said, chuckling. "Wes threatening someone for flirting with his sisters. That's the universe seeking balance right there for you." She took the holos from Gavin and perused them. "I second your wow, Gav, I think I'd ask this one out myself."

Wes glared turbolasers at them both. "That one is married and pregnant. Again."

"Married at her age? If she's older than Gavin, I'm a Mandalorian."

"Pregnant, again?" Gavin's voice rose to a squeak on the last word.

"What else is there to do on a tame Agri world like Tanaab. Fall in love. Get married. Procreate. Grow stuff. Procreate more. Why do you think I left?"

"To rid the galaxy of the scourge of the Empire?" Someone from an adjacent table, probably Nawara Ven, called to him.

"Well, that too." Wes conceded. "Mostly that. I'll let you in on my deep, dark secret, Gavin. I bring shame to my family. I know I do, as I'm a complete failure at growing plants. I look at green stuff and it shrivels up and dies. I'd never last a week as a farmer. I'd rather make bad people die, instead, and have the sibs safely on that boring green rock digging in the dirt and overpopulating our hometown." 

Taking a clue from Hobbie, Wes turned the questions back on him, "Is it any different for you?"

Gavin wrinkled his nose. "I'd love a home on a planet of green growing things after having grown up on Tatooine, but yeah. My siblings are safe and I'm here making sure they stay that way."

"Another question for young Darklighter..." Wes grinned at him. "Why did you razz Wedge at the briefing?"

The question made the younger man hunch, just a little, but he didn't evade the question or Wes' eyes when he answered. "The whole thing felt like we were mourning a death. Everyone looked as sad as I felt. Someone needed to do something."

Wes accepted this, but asked another leading question, "Why you? You aren't usually one to bring levity to a briefing."

"Normally you and Hobbie have it covered if things get too dark. I couldn't stand it, and I knew you weren't in a place to make one of your perfectly timed jokes to fix us."

"So, you stepped up and turned the conversation in a new direction yourself?" 

"Yeah. I guess I did."

Wes met his eyes. "Thank you." He flipped a pair of his cred coins at Gavin's pile. "Exactly the right move, at the right moment. Good job." 

"Thank you, sir."

"You don't have to call me sir today, Gavin."

"Thank you, not-sir? I don't think..." 

"Ah, ha. Idiots Array," Wes told the table, holding up his cards and smiling cheerfully at their groans and curses. "This hand also goes to me."

The third hand was quiet. Too quiet for Wes' liking. "Alright, Darklighter... Next question. Fire away."

Gavin nodded. "Okay. Well... you kinda have a reputation... you know. People say you date. A lot."

"Do they really?"

"Yeah. Well. I was wondering. If you have all this... experience... with women. And dating." The young Rogue stumbled to a halt, struggling for words and blushing deep crimson all the way to the tips of his ears. 

Wes glanced at the table where Asyr was sitting. "So you have a question about sex? Aren't you in a relationship? And wouldn't you rather ask her your questions?"

Gavin sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. "We've talked about this and came up with nil." He ran a hand through his short, brown hair, mussing it into messy spikes sticking out everywhere. "When we first started dating, we had real questions. Asyr is Bothan, of course, and she never tried to date a human before me. That sort of thing is not encouraged. There was nothing we could find to tell us if we even could have sex. I asked Corran..."

An incredulous smile splitting his face, Wes chuckled. "Horn gave you sex advice? This I gotta hear..."

"It was Iella who really told me his story. Corran had sex with a Selonian. A female. And they both broke out in rashes like a sunburn from each other."

"Palpatine in pig-tails," Inyri gasped. 

Once Wes started to laugh, he couldn't stop. "I don't know what's better." He wheezed, laughing until his sides ached. "Inyri's attempts at curses or mental images of Horn with a Selonian sunburn."

"What I want to know," Gavin huffed, a bit annoyed at Wes' mirth. "Is if there is a guidebook for which species are compatible... you know... sexually?"

When Wes could breathe, he pondered the question. "Now that you mention it, I can't think of a single one. It does sound like something somebody should have compiled, right? Some sentient species kill their partners and eat them after mating. Probably, we would want to avoid those."

"Yes," Gavin insisted. "Why is this not a thing?"

"I may have to put some effort into research on this."

Runt nodded his agreement, "We are surprised by the sheer number of species humans are willing to mate with. Your sense of adventure is... Impressive."

"Thanks, Runt. I think." Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Wes said. "The Galactic Guide to Interspecies Courtship and Mating. This could work. It could make credits... I bet Face would help, too."

Runt nodded, "The student will ask him when we see him next."

"Take him a glass of punch first."

"Good idea."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

Wedge saw an opportunity to talk to Wes alone, for the first time since his final briefing, when he saw the other man at the bar ordering a quick drink before the second round. He sidled up and took the place beside him at the polished wood counter, "Wes."

Wes looked up at his name, and smiled, "Wedge. Not out already are you?"

"Of course not." Wedge met smile for smile. "You?" 

"I'm on a tear. Vaped them. Three for three."

Wedge's eyes widened, "Good job." He hesitated, not sure if he should ask the question on his mind, but curiosity overrode reason. "I saw Gavin ended up at your table. Did you tell him the Hoth story?"

Wes' shoulders slumped in resignation. "No. I told the kid if wants the story he has to make it past the second round. Only then, will I tell him."

"Cruel."

"Not really. I've been satisfying the new guy bonding duty by answering other intrusive questions and distributing personal holos for general consumption. And Inyri says I'm not drunk enough to tell stories."

Wedge looked pointedly at the glass of water in front of his friend. "And so you're drinking water."

"Hey now. Water is required for nearly all sentient life to survive."

The Corellian nodded gamely, "Of course it is." There was another delicate subject he wanted to ask about, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Wes beat him to it. "Yes, and no."

"You don't know the number they gave your dish."

Wes waved a hand in the direction of the ballroom. "It's in there. The number doesn't matter. I doubt it will be a contender for this mysterious Mirax prize."

"I bet it will."

Janson's eyes were on his face, while thoughtfully tapping his chin. "What will you bet?"

"What do you want?" Wedge asked, smirking. 

"Three words."

"Just three?" Wedge's tone lowered. "I'm going to need more than that."

Wes' eyes glittered with alcohol tinged playfulness. "Care to give a hint?"

"You got the one and only hint you are going to get from me."

"It was a good hint."

"Glad you approve."

Wes nodded, and at the same moment the buzzer signaling the change of table on the tokens sounded. He pulled the token out of his pocket and checked the number. "Ten"

Wedge did the same with his token. "SIx."

"Huh."

"If I finish first, I'll save you a place at my table," Wedge promised. "For the food. After this round."

"Sithspit! You're as persistent as Gavin..." Wes accused.

"I'm the most persistent person in the galaxy when I have something I want in my sights." Wedge pulled a vial of blue shimmery liquid from his pocket and placed the vial in Wes' hand. "Drink this if you feel the beginnings of alcohol poisoning."

Wes looked at the vial in shock. "Where did you get this? I haven't seen this stuff since the morning after the celebration on Endor. There've been times I needed this..."

"If you mention it to Hobbie or Tycho. I will deny everything."

"You do love me best," Wes breathed, awed.

Wedge gave him an eye roll and a pat on the arm. "Don't get cocky." 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

The unlucky players at table six had the misfortune of drawing both Wedge and Tycho for the second round and good natured chatter was at a minimum as other players had to focus on cards and their strategies or let the past and present CO's of Rogue Squadron take them out with the cool, practiced efficiency they normally reserved for enemy fighters.

"So, did he submit the request?" Wedge whispered, conscious not to feed too much information to the gossips, only one of whom, Wraith pilot Elassar Targon, shared their table. 

"Nope."

Not bothering to stifle his annoyance, the General asked, voice still low, "Why the Sith not?"

Tycho glanced at Wedge over his cards as he eyed The Queen of Air and Darkness in his hand and plotted his next three moves. "Pulled him in and asked. Things got weird, so I let him walk. He's thinking about it."

"Do you want me to try, again?"

Tycho's lips quirked up at the corners, the equivalent of a full on toothy grin on any other man, Wedge knew. "Appreciated, my friend, but not necessary." He discarded and read the other players for a full minute before adding, "They know I'm not you. They accept me. They trust me well enough." Tycho muttered under his breath, "Most of them."

"Define weird." Trust Wedge to pick up on one very important word. 

Tycho tilted his head in the direction of the table where Wes could be heard laughing uproariously at something someone said. "For the first time ever, I wish I remembered more about my early days with the Rebellion."

"Why? You had legitimate issues to work through. Everyone does when they join up, but you are a special case."

"I'm convinced something happened between us on Hoth."

Wedge's eyebrows raised in surprise. "I don't remember anything, and if so, what could it have been?"

"Damned if I know." Their eyes met and years of shared experience communicated, no words necessary. Something was up with their Wes. "Janson goes all jittery... and as evasive as a TIE in a trench, when I get within two meters of him."

Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Wedge considered. Tycho could almost hear the gears turning. "He mentioned training squad duty in passing the other night and went green on me." 

The hand holding The Star shook slightly, and Tycho grunted. When he spoke, it was with forced calm. "I had to pull Klivian's head out of his rear after he learned about the Talons."

"Blamed himself." Wedge guessed, feeling ill. 

"One hundred percent," the Colonel agreed. "How did you deal with Wes?"

Wedge's mouth fell open, and it took him a minute to close it. "I... I didn't." His brow furrowed in concentration. "We had so many other fires to put out. He never mentioned it. Didn't complain. Did exemplary work with those pilots. None of the usual signs of breakdown."

"Well, it would appear training squad duty is now a punishment for bad little Majors who don't salute fast enough or lick my boots clean enough."

"Wait, what? Shavit, Tych." Wedge ran a hand through his hair. "I think I dropped the ball on this."

Tycho shook his head. "You were busy juggling live grenades, my friend, dropping one ball is better than any of the alternatives."

"They were all so... unstable... at the start. Present company excluded Elassar."

Elassar looked up from his cards and grinned, "Thank you, not-sirs. If I may say so, we in Wraith squad do not hide from our tipped turbo-laser pasts. Our gratitude knows no bounds when it comes to the way you and Wes took us in and had our wing until we could fly straight, sir... I mean not-sir." He picked up a card and scowled at it in disgust. "There is nothing we wouldn't do to repay our debt."

"You Wraiths earned your places with sweat, tears and blood. There is no debt as far as I'm concerned." Wedge looked thoughtful, "I do have a question you night be able to answer. It seemed like Donos pulled his act together overnight at one point and I always suspected the Wraiths are behind it. They were behind so much of the bizarre behavior. Do you know if Face and the gang did something for Donos? To help him with the guilt?"

"If they did something, it was before my time. I could ask, if you would like?"

"No. No. I'll ask Loran myself. With no decor, if there is a perfect time and place to ask it's here and now."

Tycho nodded, "I want to be present for the conversation, if possible."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Do I smell bad or something, Wes?" Myn Donos asked, pointedly. 

Janson was one of the first people at their table and when Myn sat down beside him, Wes popped out of his seat and headed for one of the three empty seats on far side of the table. "You smell fine. Mirax smells great, like a garden of pretty flowers lightly sprinkled with fruit. It's not that. I'm not going to lose this round because I was parked between two Corellians." He softened the words with a smile and an apologetic shrug. "That's what vaped me last year."

"Gotta love how non-Corellians always point the finger at us in a sad attempt to delude themselves into thinking they're being cheated. When in reality, they're just poor players with inferior Sabacc skills," Myn told Mirax.

Mirax glared at Wes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Prejudice. Pure and simple." Her movement drew Wes' attention to the cleavage Corran Horn's beautiful wife was making no effort to hide. She noticed his eyes weren't focused high enough to reach her unhappy face, and she leaned forward a little more to make her face visible to him. "Have it your way, Flyboy. You can sit over there and get smoked just as easily as over here. Who knows? Maybe you're dead wrong and sitting between two Corellians is better for you."

Myn nodded in agreement, "The shield strength of our luck extends out a meter from us and overlaps this seat." He patted the empty chair between them fondly. "Look, it's Kell. Come and sit beside me, my friend."

"Nope. Not happening. I"m with Wes on this," Tainer smirked, taking the seat on Wes' left. "I have your wing, Wes."

Wes grinned at him, "Not necessary, but I want you all to know for one night only I will be accepting alcoholic beverages in exchange for answering personal questions."

"Oooh," Mirax smiled at him and rubbed her hands together. "This is a great addition to the play. I'll have to remember this for next tourney." She slipped out of her seat and hurried off to the bar.

Wes sighed, "She forgot to take my order..."

"Punch. Mirax's going to get you her lethal mystery punch and we'll have to drag-carry you to a bunk before round four."

Tainer copied Wes' sigh, and added a sad head shake, "Another attempt by a Corellian to remove players from the game."

"So is getting punched in the nose by her jealous, ex-Corsec, force sensitive husband for paying too much attention to her cleavage," a voice whispered in Wes' ear from behind his chair, making Wes jump, his head whipping around. 

"Sithspit," Wes glared at Hobbie with his hands raised in self-defense. "I'm not trying to, Hobbs. I swear." The face he made was pained enough to earn him a pat on the shoulder from his best friend. "Eyes on the cards. Eyes off the Mirax."

Wes nodded, "Thanks for the reminder, buddy."

"Anytime." Hobbie moved around the table and took the Corellian hot seat. "I, for one, need all the luck shield strength I can get."

Donos favored Hobbie with rare smile that showed a dimple in his right cheek. "Good man, Hobbie."

"If you vape me, Donos, I will have my revenge. It won't be pretty."

"Understood."

Mirax returned, and on her way to her seat she placed a cup of noxious looking yellow green punch in front of Wes. "One alcoholic beverage. One personal question." She smiled sweetly at him. Wes gulped audibly, and all the gamblers at the table laughed at his discomfort. "Did I miss something, Wes?" 

"No ma'am."

"Uh huh. Just for lying to me, you get to deal the first hand."

The first hand went well, Wes came in second behind Mirax.

Mirax dealt the second hand and as she placed the card in front of Wes, she finally got around to asking her question. "You've been a pilot for a long time. Pilots are kept on the move, so I have to wonder... How many serious relationships have you had in your life?"

Taking a very large gulp of the punch, he picked up another card, letting her wait while he debated the value of his answer. "One relationship," Wes told her eventually, avoiding her eyes.

"And are you still in it?"

"Nope. My lover, my first, was killed by Imps in the evacuation of Hoth."

Mirax's grin slipped away, and she patted his hand in sympathy. "Oh, Wes. I'm so sorry."

Janson shrugged, "It was a long time ago, now."

"First loves hurt so much."

"Truth," Donos agreed. 

"What was her name?" Mirax asked.

Not a her," Wes admitted for the first time to anyone, ever. Well, other than Derek. "His name was... Dack."

"Wait, I've heard that name mentioned by Wedge," Kell said. "Your first love affair was with another Rogue while you were on Hoth?"

When Wes didn't answer, Hobbie jumped in and answered for him, "Of course, it was. A base full of green teenage pilots with too much time on their hands and too little supervision. Lots of first loves happened at Hoth. Lots of broken hearts and grief. And a few guys who took the experience a blind jump too far and vowed never to get involved with another member of their squad, ever again."

"Name one time it has worked out for couples who flew together," Wes asked bitterly.

Tainer waved a hand in front of Wes' face, "Hello... Tyria and me are doing just fine, thank you very much."

Hobbie looked at him as if to say, 'See' and added, "Nawara and Rhysati. And... You could almost count Tycho and Winter because she's been on missions with us."

"Count Corran and I, too, then. I did help with the whole taking Coruscant thing, didn't I?"

"It's not all doom and gloom, Wes."

Wes grunted something non-committal and pushed his punch across the table to Donos. "I'm done with questions about me. I want to ask you a question, Myn."

"Shoot."

"You had two weeks leave. You just got back. How's your girlfriend on Corellia?" It was a loaded question. Myn's girlfriend was a former Imperial Intel agent and former Wraith who'd faked her death to avoid court marshal and a death sentence. 

Nobody had known about Lara Notsil's former life. Everyone had liked, respected and trusted her until her cover had been blown. Myn was the one hurt most of all by the revelations and still he loved Lara. Kierney. Whatever she was calling herself, now. Wes was glad she was alive and hoped she stayed that way for a very long time, for Donos' sake. 

With a growled curse that sounded something like 'Drunken mynock dung', Myn's took Wes' glass of punch and swallowed a yellow-green mouthful. He didn't cough or splutter, so he took another smaller drink. "She's not my girlfriend, anymore." 

The announcement was greeted with a chorus of shocked sounds and gaping mouths.

"This is what I'm talking about," Wes told Hobbie.

The corner of Donos' mouth quirked up. "The minute I set down in Coronet City, Kierney dragged my sorry ass out of my X-wing, and I really thought she was going to beat me senseless for being away so long, but... she just... made me marry her." He gave a relieved sigh.

"What?"

"And then she locked us in our little apartment for the entire two weeks until she was fairly certain we'd made a start on the baby she wants." Myn smiled secretively to himself at this and his dimple was back. "It's kinda fun to try to make babies."

"Donos!" Hobbie gasped, utterly horrified.

Kell nodded with wide eyes, "You can't just get married and not tell anyone... Tyria is going to kill you."

"It's..." Hobbie said, "It's really gotta be against some kinda squad rule."

Mirax looked at Myn and smiled conspiratorially, "It is fun practicing for making babies."

"Her shipping business is going well. We talked about her making a few runs to Coruscant in the future," he told Mirax.

"I hope she does. Business is booming here."

Hobbie glared at Wes, and Wes winced, "Congratulations, Myn. To both of you."

"Do you really mean that?" Donos asked, doubtfully.

Wes nodded, "Yeah, I really do." He gave the other man a wan smile.

"Then, I accept the congratulations." Myn gave Wes a meaningful look and his grin slipped a little on Wes' behalf. "Don't make me tell Kierney what you said about never dating someone in the same squadron."

"Hobbs said it. Not me."

"Same thing."

"Hey!" Hobbie complained. 

Changing the subject, Wes chided, "You won't have ugly babies and they'll probably fly very well and shoot fairly straight." His gaze turned to Mirax. "Your kids have a fifty-fifty shot of looking like Horn. I'm sorry."

"Not exactly how genetics works, and I'm going to tell my very attractive husband you said that," Mirax pouted prettily.

Tainer shoulder bumped him, none too gently. "What? No pronouncements on the future attractiveness of my offspring with Tyria?"

Wes gave him a side-eye, smirking as he said, "Fine. Your kids will be absolutely adorable, Tainer, but they won't need to look pretty. They'll have the Force." He held out his hands like he was gripping an invisible lightsaber and made a fairly accurate humming buzzing sound to go with his little slashes and parries. 

"What is in your punch?" Janson asked Mirax, accusingly. "I can't feel my nose... or my ears."

"I'll never tell."

Wes squinted down at his cards holding them this way and that, then sighed loudly. "Oh, thank the force." He turned his hand around and showed them all a Pure Sabacc. "I really do have a Pure Sabacc after that shift. I thought it was a hallucination." 

"Sithspit."

"SIthspawn."

"Every kriffing time."

"Hutt-slime."

"Hey!" Wes complained.

"Metaphorical Hutt-slime," Kell grumbled, "Is that better?"

"Wes deals, again. Or you can choose someone else to deal."

Wes looked at the assembled players and handed the cards to Hobbie. "You."

"Buddy!" Hobbie cried. "Does this mean you forgive me for outing you and giving the pilots a de-facto green light to meddle in your love life?"

"No. You are not forgiven, and I will have revenge. In fact, I'm gonna ask Wedge to help me make it a really awful one because he likes me best."

Hobbie sighed, more glum than ever. "I'm sorry."

"He only says he's sorry when he knows he's in deep bantha poodoo," Wes told the other players, conversationally. 

"It's not fair. You shouldn't get to be Wedge's favorite and Tycho's favorite, too."

Wes glanced up from his cards, frowning and huffed, "Tycho barely tolerates me."

"Uh huh."

"He called me into his office to yell at me not two days ago."

"Good," Hobbie said. "You're being a Wampa's hairy arse, you deserved the dressing down."

The best friends exchanged a look, and Wes whispered, "I want it for YOU."

"I don't want your pity promotion. The job belongs to you. I know it. Tycho knows it." Hobbie gave him another card. "And if you'd stop juking and jinking for two blasted minutes, you'd realize you ARE Tycho's favorite." 

"I don't want to make things hard for him by being around all the time. We've always avoided each other."

"Idiot. You've been making things hard for him, and lots of other Rogues, since Hoth. You can't help it. It's like a Jedi Force power. Some people lift things with their minds, you bewitch fellow Rogues and make them fall madly in lust with you. Then, you walk around completely oblivious to their suffering like a complete dolt."

"And some Wratihs..." Tainer added, then at Wes' look of horror, he backtracked, "Not me you intoxicated fool. Tyria and Shalla, Dia and Castin... Sithspit! I think Face even admitted after you went back to the Rogues that he wouldn't say no to you if you sent the right signals." 

Wes glared at Hobbie. "You're dead wrong, Hobbs."

"Sometimes, you're as dense as duracreet, Wes."


	4. Storytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes tells a group of Rogues and Wraiths about the greatest prank he ever played. People hear the things he and Wedge don't say, as well. Wedge uncovers the Wraiths' dirty little secret regarding Myn Donos.

"They name Imp capitol ships after people like you," Wes told Gavin in his most exasperated tone. "Relentless. Implacable."

Gavin smiled much too smugly for Wes' thinking. "You promised."

"I promised," Wes agreed.

"So spill."

Wes took a moment to finish off his spicy Rova and washed it down with a bit of whiskey. 

"Commencing the spillage." 

Inyri sat down at their table, at the far side of the ballroom, and rubbed her hands together. "Let's do this."

Wes selected this particular table for the fact it bordered the blaring music of dance floor and was spaced far from the other tables. Was it wishful thinking to hope his story was less likely to be overheard and spread like flaxen gossip seeds on the base's gossip currents?

Before he could open his mouth, Elassar and Face walked up and took the pair of open seats on his left. "What are you doing here," he pointed at Face with his empty fork. 

"El told me you're telling a Hoth story." Face set a glass of whiskey before Wes. "Here, my friend, have another drink."

An audience of Elassar, Inyri, Gavin, Asyr, Face, and Hobbie gathered close. Just when Wes thought it couldn't get worse, Wedge showed up with Rhysati and Nawara in tow. "No, sorry, no more room at this table, find another," Wes complained.

Wedge pulled out a chair and offered it to the female Rogue, who shook her head at him and grinned, "I'll just sit on Nawara's lap." 

"Why are you all here?" Wes moaned.

"For the Hoth story. Duh."

"Fine. I'm getting a little fuzzy at the edges. I can probably tell it now." He took a deep breath and let it out. "This was all the way back to when we first occupied the Hoth base. It was stupidly cold on Hoth. Like freeze your most important parts off cold. There weren't many ways to get warm outside of spending the day in these rectangular, heated bunks built into the ice walls of our rooms."

"Cozy coffins," Hobbie supplied, nodding.

"I remember those..." Wedge added, face twisting in revulsion. "I hated those things. You think cockpits get claustrophobic after spending half a dozen hours in them? They are spacious compared to those torture boxes we had to sleep in."

"We all hated those things," Wes told the group. "The favored place in the Hoth base where you could thaw frozen toes after a patrol was the 'fresher."

Hobbie rocked in his seat, like an animated child on holiday. "Oh! Is this gonna be one of 'those' stories?"

Wes gave the other man a warning glare, "Shut it, Hobbs."

"Okay." He closed his mouth, but didn't stop bouncing in his seat with anticipation.

"The base refreshers were gloriously hot, cavernous rooms filled with steamy water piped into floor to ceiling poles set in the floor at even intervals. Each pole had three high pressure shower heads up high and three at what would come to, on the average human male, about chest height." 

Wedge nodded and added, "And at any given time there were at least a dozen people standing around showering. At peak hours, think twice that. Sithspit. I know where this is going..."

"You shut it, too, Antilles." At Wedge's shocked expression, Wes blew a kiss at him. "I love no decor."

Crossing his arms and pursing his lips, Wedge said, "You've been into Mirax's punch, so I will forgive you and not seek revenge."

"Good. Can I tell the story now, pleeeeease?" Wes whined.

"Continue."

Wes smiled brightly at them. "You know me, and you all know what a practical joker I am."

"Yeah," someone agreed in a mutter.

Another mumbled, "A real joker."

"Well, Hoth was white. Everything on Hoth blended together into this vast white nothingness. Can't tell you how many times I got lost in those first weeks; all the corridors looked the blasted same. So, after we had some techs on a supply run lost for two days in the tunnels, someone came up with the bright idea to color code lines on the lower half of the walls to help us navigate. Follow the green line and you will end up at the mess halls and rec rooms. Follow the yellow lines for the command areas, red for medical. You get the picture. They had our R2 units rolling around the base for days spray painting the lines. The dye packs were basically a thin, flexible membrane filled with liquid paint. I liberated a few and... experimented on them."

"I just bet you did," Inyri chuckled.

Wes winked at her. "I discovered the membrane was water soluble and dissolved at a reliably timed rate when exposed to hot water."

"Hot damn," Face exclaimed. "This IS a good story."

"They don't leak like one would expect them to and maybe dribble a little dye. They go through a tiny explosive decompression and pop. LOUDLY."

To Gavin, Wes explained, "I snuck in at 0400 hours, when I knew it would be empty. Took me nearly 30 minutes unscrew all the shower heads and stuff a pack in each. I used dozens of dye bombs, in a rainbow of colors. Then, I stripped and wrapped a towel around my waist and waited for the first pilots to arrive. I think I forgot to mention an 0500 briefing and I chose the 'fresher nearest the pilot bunks and ready room. No sense in pissing off techs and maintenance people. Need them to do repairs on my X-wing. Gotta look out for them."

"No mercy for the Rogues, though."

"No way. In fact, the first person to get to the showers was Commander Luke Skywalker himself. He was early and I had to think on my feet or he would have spoiled the whole thing." Wes chuckled to himself. "I told Luke the maintenance droids were in there cleaning out a particularly nasty mold that had formed in the pipes."

Hobbie nodded, "Quick thinking. Mold was actually a problem."

"Always add some truth to make a lie more believable," Face added. "We wrote that into the Wraith Handbook." 

"RULE #7," Elassar stated.

Face nodded at him, obviously pleased, "Good boy. You get a free autographed holo of me as your prize."

"I will use it at the range, next time we have target practice." At the withering glare from his CO, Elassar winced, "Or not."

"So how does Tycho fit into this story?" Nawara Ven asked, in his coaxing lawyer tone. 

Wes rubbed his palms together to dry the sweat on them. "Tycho was late. Got up late. Went to workout or breakfast first. Don't really know. All I know for sure is he walked past me into the 'fresher just as all the packs went off. POP. POP. POP-POP-POP. Like gun fire all the way down the line and with most of the Rogues and about half of a sister squad standing naked at the poles." He couldn't help but belly laugh, delighted with his handy work, even now. "It was just so... artistic. Like a beautiful rainbow made of naked pilots."

"My hair was blue for weeks thanks to you," Wedge grumbled, sourly shaking his head in horrified disbelief. "And Luke's was a hideous green. But you missed Tycho didn't you?"

"Correct. I did miss Tycho, and I was busy patting myself on the back and I didn't pay any attention to him. One minute I'm laughing my arse off, the next he'd shoved me back through the doorway, and slammed me up against the lockers with his forearm across my throat. He leans in and whispers right in my face, "If you EVER prank me, I... will... END... you."

At the collective gasp, Janson nodded and took a gulp of the whiskey in his cup. 

"Not a bad impression of the Colonel's Alderaanian accent," Face conceded. "I give it a seven."

Wes waved a hand in the air. "You have to understand, Tycho was the new guy of the week to us. We only knew he was from Alderaan and he was fresh off a Star Destroyer somewhere. He had the buzz cut just starting to grow out and the Imperial stick still firmly jammed up his backside." Wes sighed, "The kicker was his eyes, though. He's got a weird shade of blue eyes and it just takes getting used to. Tycho's eyes when he's pissed off are like... I don't know how to describe it." He tossed up his hands and sighed, again. 

"Can I ask a question?" Rhysati addressed Wes. "You're not required to answer if it's... too personal." At Wes' nod, she glanced briefly at her husband, on whose lap she was still sitting, and patted his arm. "Sorry, honey. I need to know. Wes was the Colonel naked at the time he shoved into the lockers? And you were in nothing but a towel?"

"Uhm, yeah." Wes frowned at the question. "Why?"

Rhysati and Inyri shared a meaningful look and the women moved their right hands in a simultaneous fanning motion to cool off. "Didn't you find that even the slightest bit... well... hot?"

"So hot," Inyri agreed, sighing. "That is pure holo-porn material."

"You aren't getting it. He threatened to KILL me. He has madman blue eyes." Wes ticked off points on his fingers. "Hot barely made the list."

"Ah, but it did make the list," Rhysati insisted, smirking. "I would have fainted dead away, and only about twenty percent would have been fear of a former Imperial pilot with pale blue eyes." 

Wedge spoke up, "Just so you know, Wes. Tycho has no memory of that. None."

"Oh, good," he said, and sagged a bit with relief. 

Gavin touched his arm to get his attention, "You've caught Tycho in lots of your pranks since Hoth, right?"

Wes shook his head violently, making himself a little dizzy in the process, "NONONO Not even once."

"I'm pretty sure the Colonel won't kill you, now," Face assured him. 

"'Cause I'm his favorite?" Wes asked, sarcastically, and stuck his tongue out at Hobbie.

Face grinned, "No, not that. Killing you would be a Major amount of paperwork." The leader of the Wraiths chuckled at his own joke. 

"That joke was a Major disappointment," Hobbie told him, dourly.

The whole table groaned and rolled their eyes.

"You know what isn't a major disappointment," Tyria asked as she and Kell walked up to their table. She placed her plate in the center of the table and waved a hand at it. "This stuff."

Wes didn't have to look to know it was his cooking from the buffet. He could smell it. 

Kell nodded, handing a fork to Wedge. "You must try this, not-sir."

Wedge took the fork and stabbed a chunk of meat. Everyone watched him eat it, sighing with obvious relish. "Amazing," he admitted. 

Face liberated the fork from Wedge's fingers before he could stab another bite to take a piece for himself. Chewed. "Palpatine in pig-tails!" He exclaimed, smoothly appropriating Inyri's curse. "Who would waste Rova on a buffet dish for drunken pilots? Rova, and this dish, are way too classy for the likes of these plebeians."

"Everyone gets to take one bite," Tyria ordered. "The pan was almost empty."

Wes looked at Wedge, alarm on his face. "Is that all you got?"

"No, I had some at the start of the break. It really is too good for us."

"No such thing," Wes stated, quietly, and meaning it.

"You should try a bite before it gets cold," Wedge told him, in his no argument tone. 

Wes patiently let Wedge stab a bite with the fork, but instead of handing the fork to Wes, Wedge fed it to him, making a happy face as Wes chewed and swallowed. "I can still feed myself, you know. I haven't had that much punch."

"So you can. Are your ears and nose numb yet?"

"Yes."

"You know what to do."

"If you all don't stop moaning someone is going to invoke the Hoth Protocol..." Gavin told them. "That would be a serious problem."

The group laughed, all except for Wedge who just looked around at all of them, utterly confused. Clearly, he was missing the joke.

"Hoth Protocol?" Wedge asked. "No such thing."

Rhysati inhaled sharply in surprise and Nawara clamped a hand over her mouth. "No, dearest, we mustn't utterly destroy the last tiny scrap of General's innocence."

"What do you mean? I've never heard of this, and I was at Hoth. Therefore, you made it up to prank me."

Face choked on his drink, earning a slap on the back from Wes, a hard slap on the back, at that. 

When he could talk, Face turned to Wedge, "I regret to inform you, sir, not-sir, you missed something significant durning your time on the ice planet. Alright you miscreants, who was the last person to get called on the Hoth Protocol at this table? Let's see the hands..." Face ordered. 

Gavin sheepishly raised a hand, "Two weeks ago."

Wes' head made a thunk when it hit the table.

"Is he passed out?" Elassar asked, concerned.

Face put his face down beside Wes' to listen, "Nope. He's muttering curses. Gavin, we're no decor. So, I can't order you to tell Wedge your shameful secret tonight, but tomorrow all bets are off."

"Fine. Whatever. Asyr and I were caught making out in the base laundry facility." He flushed scarlet from the mortification of it. "One of the Novas walked in on us and asked if the Hoth Protocol was in effect." He buried his face in his hands. "Asyr, please don't kill me. Really, though, what else was there for us to do? It's boring watching clothes wash."

Hobbie sighed. "I will explain. Wedge, the Hoth Protocol states: if you are caught in a compromising position in a public place on base, you have two options: take it private, or let everyone else join in with you." Klivian smirked at Wedge. "If you've never heard of it, either you didn't have a lover on Hoth or you were more discreet than everyone else."

All eyes turned on Wedge. He winced, coloring slightly. "I had lovers on Hoth," he protested. 

Wes' head came up from the table, swiveling slowly to focus dark eyes on Wedge. "Nope. Don't believe you."

"I did," he insisted.

Hobbie eyed their leader doubtfully. "We were at Hoth, Wedge. Name names or it doesn't count."

Wedge eyed the table of assorted Wraiths and Rogues, and then made a crooked finger signal to Hobbie to come closer. Into his ear, Wedge whispered.

Hobbie whistled. "Huh. I guess that would explain the secrecy. I mean even I would have jumped on him. No, no I wouldn't. Wrong parts. There were a few females on Hoth, thank the Force. Don't think you are off the hook, he only counts as one."

Wedge smirked, whispered again. "Sithspit, Wedge. I'm disappointed in you, young man. Too much like dating your cousin or brother or something. Stuff they only do on backwater Agri planets."

"Hey!" Wes objected. "That's offensive."

"If the boot fits, wear it, Wes." Hobbie smiled, a rare and freakish sight. "In fact, I have a really great idea. Wedge, you should give that old boot of yours to Wes and let him wear it for a while."

Wedge's wide eyed warning glare wiped the smile right off Hobbie's face.

"Did anyone ever invoke the second option?" Elassar asked.

Wes beamed. "Are you asking for the number of times I witnessed the second option, or number of times I participated?" 

"Is there a difference?"

Wes had to think really hard about it about it. "No."

"Well?" Wedge asked him.

"Twice. Two times." Wes counted on his fingers. "One. Two."

"Janson is sloshed out of his mind," Gavin concluded.

"I am, but I can fix that," Wes told them, proudly. "I have this." He pulled Wedge's magical hang-over remedy from his pocket and held it up triumphantly. 

Hobbie scowled at him, his voice nearly a screech as he asked, "Where did you get that?"

"Not. Telling. You." 

"Save me some, buddy?"

Wes uncorked the tube and drank the contents. He handed the empty vial to Hobbie. "Suffer."

"Well, I know I'm going to regret this, but..." Wedge felt around and pulled a second vial out of his pocket and Hobbie's glum expression became a smirk. 

Before he could get the vial Wedge offered, Face's hand moved quicker and snatched it. "Wedge Antilles!" The Wratih Commander chided, "Are you giving unfair advantage to certain players at this tournament?"

"Of course not."

Eyebrows drawing down in a disapproving scowl, Face said, "Do you have enough to share with the whole class?"

"Sorry, Face. That is my last one."

Face opened the vial, ignoring Hobbie's yelp of indignation, sniffed it and took a sip. 

"Mine!" Hobbie complained, howling loudly.

"Confiscated. Well, half confiscated. That stuff tastes vile, and I imagine it's prohibitively expensive, but I suppose I'm going to have to buy cases of it. For... Wraith emergencies. I wonder if Mirax has a supplier I can tap." He put the cap back on it and gave the vial to Hobbie. "You don't really need it, yet."

Grumbling, Hobbie pocketed his treasure. 

"Face," Wedge began. 

"You want to talk to me. I know. El told me." He stood and stretched, crooking a finger at Tyria. "I'm not going to be the only Wraith on this. Lead on."

Behind them, Wes groaned. "Being vertical is hard. Horizontal is better."

"We only have thirty minutes left of the intermission," Gavin told him, concerned.

Hobbie stood, nodding at Wes. "It will be enough. Come on, Janson. Let's find you a couch to nap on." 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

Face followed Wedge and Tyria into last one of the six smaller rec-rooms pilots could reserve for less public social gatherings while stuck on base. The rooms each had a large viewport/holoscreen taking up an entire wall. Worn, mismatched couches and chairs clustered together in front of the screen and gave pilots comfortable spots to read, socialize or watch entertainment vids with friends. 

When the door closed behind them, Loran took a deep breath, resigning himself to the confession. "So you want to know what we did to help Donos pull up before he cratered a few weeks into our training?"

Wedge nodded, and he didn't sound particularly angry when he said, "I was willing to let it go, but I think it may be important."

"Maybe Donos should tell him," Tyria said, nervously.

"I will," Donos called out to them from the far side of the room where he was with Colonel Celchu, obviously waiting for them to begin the impromptu briefing. 

Face scanned the room for others, but found it empty of anyone other than the two men on the couch. He moved into the room and sat on the couch's twin facing them. "You wanna tell it, Donos?"

"Not much to tell. I was just about to put a blaster into my mouth. Seriously considered it, in fact." At Wedge's wince, Donos nodded. "I was a mess."

Wedge nodded, sadly. "We knew that."

"We knew it, too," Tyria agreed, quietly. "We were desperate, Wedge. Desperately desperate."

Face patted her hand, soothing her nerves. "Yeah."

"The Wraiths hauled my sorry arse outta my bunk and took me on a secret jaunt to the simulator room."

"We thought maybe..." Face cleared his throat, tried again in a more normal pitch. "We got him in the simulator, after hours, and..."

"Gravan Seven," Donos said, simply.

Wedge's sharp intake of breath was loud in the otherwise silent room. "No, you didn't." He looked like he wanted to retch.

"I knew you weren't going to like this story." Face took another calming breath. "If there is going to be disciplinary action, I want all shots directed at me."

"We didn't make Donos do the Gravan Seven sim run," Wedge said, shaking his head. "To make him relive that was unthinkable."

"No, you were wrong," Donos told the General flatly, and he didn't flinch when Wedge fired indignation lasers from his eyes at him for a comment that would, on any normal day, be considered insubordinate. "I"m sorry if you don't hear it very often, Wedge, but you were wrong and they were right. I needed it. Going through it all again with the Wraiths, I couldn't stuff the guilt in a box, anymore. I couldn't delude myself. I had to face the facts. There wasn't anything I could have done to save any of my pilots. I barely saved myself."

"You WERE wrong, Wedge," Tycho agreed, quietly. 

"You, too?" There was a hint of betrayal in Wedge's tone.

"Myn is right. You don't hear it very often, because you can be as hard as durasteel plating when you need to be... in most things." Tycho shrugged. "I told you I had to pull Hobbie out of a bad place."

"No."

"It was your suggestion to have the Rogues run the scenario."

Wedge's eyes widened in realization. "Yes, the scenario had value, but I didn't mean for you to include Derek."

"Did you run it yourself?"

Wedge shook his head, looked Donos in the eye, and Face saw something pass between them, in that look. As the leader of the Wraiths, Face understood the look, now. There was a special kind of grief for a commander who lost people under his command, like acid, the grief etched your soul a little each time. "I was trying to spare them."

Tycho nodded, "I know."

"You want Wes to go through that?" Wedge asked, sad and tired. The question was addressed to nobody in particular or maybe to everybody. 

The Colonel stood up to look out at the view of the night lit with sky traffic, his back to the room. When he spoke, his tone matched Wedge's sadness frequency almost exactly. "I think he'll balk. He ran the simulators for the runs from the control room, didn't he? High probability he'll recognize the Gravan Seven mission profile early and pop out. Just flatly refuse to do it. Then, I'm put in the position of having to order him to do it in front of lower ranking Rogues and dressing him down for insubordination if he mouths off. I don't like it any more than you do, my friend, but you also can't deny two for two is an impressive success rate."

"I had an idea," Donos told them. "Not tonight, mind you, but what if we rigged all the simulator rooms on this level to fly together? That would give us twelve pods. A full squadron. Wes wouldn't be alone."

Tyria looked at him, shock openly on her face, "Are you saying you'd do it, Myn?"

"Yeah, and maybe, we find a few who may not have done it before, so it has some educational value."

"Like Elassar?" Face considered this, nodded.

"When?" Tycho asked. "There are going to be epic hangovers tomorrow. We can see if the afternoon schedule is open..."

Donos asked, "Can we even make all the pods synch?"

Loran rolled his eyes at the former Wraith sniper. "Of course we can, idiot. Wraiths, remember?" He smiled at Donos and shook his head, "Some people should not marry and make babies."

Donos bared his teeth. "Shut up, Face."

"If Wes is going to fly it, I want to fly it," Wedge stated, jaw set in stubborn determination.

Tycho glanced at him, nodding thoughtfully, "And so will I."

"It would be interesting to know if the best pilots in the New Republic would fare any better than a group of green pilots," Face mused aloud.

Tyria sighed, "And now there will be bets."

"Never bet against Rogues," Tycho advised her.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

When the others had gone, Wedge and Tycho were left alone.

"I didn't get the chance to ask you. Did you get the Hoth story?"

Wedge scowled, "Oh, we sure did. And I'm going to shoot him for it, too."

"That bad, huh?"

"Knowing Wes Janson as well as I do, I can't believe I never thought... all signs would have pointed to him even back then. Sithspawn. He was my wingman and we roomed together."

"Wedge. Waiting."

The Corellian seethed, pacing back and forth in front of Tycho in agitation. "Do you remember the dye in the showers? I had blue hair. Wes gave me blue hair, Tycho. He must go down. No, scratch that. Death is too fast and easy for him."

"Oh, that's right. Didn't Luke have blue hair, too?"

"Green. Luke's hair was green and it was much worse for him because his hair is lighter than mine, more like your color, and the green dye never washed out. He had to have the barber droid cut most of his hair off and then he took to walking around with a warmer cap on day and night until the rest grew out." A smile split Wedge's face, a mean vengeful smile. "I"m calling Luke when I get home. Wes is going down hard."

"Didn't that happen more than once?"

"Yes. If I'd known it was Wes... He would never have survived my wrath," Wedge grumbled. 

Tycho sat down on the couch with a sigh. "I don't remember getting dye bombed." 

"You didn't." Wedge sat beside him, putting his booted feet up on the low table. "He missed you. You walked in just in time to see us all getting bombed."

"Oh. Good."

"Not so good. You slammed him against the wall with an arm across his throat and threatened to 'end him' if he ever dared to prank you."

Tycho turned to look at Wedge in shock. "Wes never has pranked me, Wedge. I've always felt a bit left out, to be honest."

Wedge shrugged. "Now, at least, you know why."

"I scared him straight?"

Smirking, Wedge added, "Yes, and thanks to the overactive imaginations of the ladies of Rogue Squadron, I think the mystery of Wes' strange behavior is solved."

"What?" Tycho didn't really want to know. 

"You were scary AND hot."

Tycho gaped at his friend and lover. "Wait, what? Who thinks I'm hot?" 

"Everyone... Including Wes. Holo-porn was mentioned."

Tycho stood up and walked to the bar counter in the corner of the private room to get a bottle of water from the refrigeration unit. "Wes doesn't do guys, Wedge."

"Wrong." 

Tycho choked on the cold water, coughing in wracking spasms until the water was out of his lungs and he could breathe. "What do you mean wrong?" He wheezed. 

Wedge stood and walked to his friend. He patted Tycho lightly on the back. "Before the break, Wes told Mirax's table he's only had one serious relationship. His name was Dack, and he died at Hoth."

"Oh, hell no," Tycho ground out.

"And Hobbie implied 'someone' took it really hard and swore off dating anyone in the same squad ever again." 

"Do we even know Janson? He's like a Sabacc card. First he's Endurance, then you get a Sabacc Shift and he's the Idiot."

"Trust me, Tych, this is news to me. Though, I felt our chemistry, and entertained some possibility of him being bisexual, because the attraction with Wes and me has been growing exponentially since forming the Wraiths." 

The Colonel ran a hand through his hair. "So, plot this course for me. Wes thinks I'm scary and somehow it's hot." 

Wedge nodded, encouragingly, "Especially when you're mad. Who knew he was so... kinky."

"Emperor's black bones. This is a mess."

"Yeah, about sums up my feelings on the news." 

"You have any other intel bombs to drop on me? Sithspit. I'm going to need some punch before the next round. My brain is seizing up." 

Wedge sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Donos is married now."

"What?!"

"When he was on Corellia to see Lara, he married her, happily, and she's trying to have a baby. He didn't tell anyone."

"Are they all out of their damn minds?"

"Yes, I can confirm it. Mirax's punch should only be used to torture intel out of enemy prisoners."

"Is Wes passed out somewhere?"

"No. I gave him a vial."

Genuinely surprised, Tycho breathed, "Wow." 

"I need him sober," Wedge stated, defensively. 

"Why?"

"He's going to win the cooking contest. I want him to remember it."

"There was only one dish getting votes. It was the Rova, and it was as hot as a sun in supernova, but the meat melted when it hit my tongue," Tycho shivered. "It was excellent."

"I know it was. I had a Nerf variation of the same dish when I dropped in on Wes the other night and he fed me some of his dinner." 

"Liar. Tell me Hutts don't drool or something." 

"I told you Wes cooks. He likes to cook." Wedge grinned, "He's even taken culinary classes." 

Shaking his head, Tycho groaned, "You told me he cooked food. You didn't say it was amazing food. We know nothing about Wes. Everything is a lie."

"More news you aren't going to like, Hobbie had it out with him over the XO spot at their table durning round two and Derek told Wes you're attracted to him, and he doesn't want a pity promotion, so Wes needs to suck it up and take the XO spot."

"Klivian is a dead man walking," the Colonel grumbled, but they both knew it was a momentary anger, there and gone. 

Wedge reached out to Tycho and pulled him into a hug. They held each other for a good minute, just taking comfort from each other. "I can't begin to do keep up." Wedge rested his chin on Tycho's shoulder.

"I hear you."

"I never could with the Wraiths. To be honest, my brain isn't wired for this much change. It drains me. A part of me wants to leave now with Wes in tow, and take him to my place, so we can pounce on him."

"Subtle. That won't scare him off or anything."

"You have a better plan, Celchu? Cause I am open to suggestions."

"How should I know? Until five minutes ago, I didn't know Wes was into men. Maybe only he's Wedgesexual."

Wedge smirked. In a sing-song voice, he said, "I have a theory."

"Shoot."

"Did you happen to pin Wes against the wall in your office when you yelled at him?"

"It was the door, but yes," Tycho admitted, sheepishly.

"Describe his 'weird' reaction."

"Rapid heartbeat, dilated pupils, he literally hyperventilated... You know.... A pretty typical fear response."

"Or?" Wedge coaxed. 

"Or what?"

General gave him a knowing smile. "Also pretty typical response of unexpected desire. Scary and hot WAS what he was forced to admit by the ladies."

"On Hoth," Tycho protested. "A lifetime ago."

"When he didn't know you, or trust you with his life on a daily basis, or insist on needing to behave himself to make life easier on you. I submit to you his 'weirdness' was you getting your first solid target lock on our evasive, secretly bisexual friend." 

"Oh, Force save me, I need punch." 

"Avoid the punch, Tycho. I don't have another vial on me."

Tycho shook his head. "Not necessary. I can accept my hangovers with dignity. That stuff costs a week's pay packet, even with Mirax as a supplier. What did Wes say when you gave him that?"

"'You do love me best.'"

"Aww. Kriff it."

The token in Wedge's pocket sounded loudly. The tone was followed by his next table number. 

"See you in the final round?"

"Like always."

Wedge kissed Tycho lightly on the mouth, tasting a hint of Wes' spicy food and the sweetness of the brandy Tycho preferred to whiskey. "Love you," he whispered against the man's lips. 

"I know," Tycho countered smugly. 

"Hey, Tych, don't get cocky."


	5. Truth And Dare

"Sithspit!" Wes cursed. His little nap made him the last person to sit down at table three in the third round and the only vacant chair was the one between Tyria Sarkin and Corran Horn. "This is much worse than sitting between Corellians. I'm stuck between two kriffing Jedi."

Both responded with, "I'm NOT a kriffing Jedi," at exactly the same time. They looked at each other around Wes, smiling, and fist bumped in front of his face. 

"So. WES." Corran shifted in his seat and elbowed Wes in the ribs, hard enough to make him grunt. "I heard you like my wife's... punch." He turned a meaningful look on the other Rogue. "I have a punch you might not like so much."

Wes made a strangled sound, looking down guiltily.

"I may not be a kriffing Jedi, but I do have a lightsaber and I've been practicing with it. I've never been tempted to cut a hand off. Yet."

"I read you, loud and clear."

"Good. I like you."

"Uhm. Thanks. I think."

Tyria leaned in close to Wes, blinked once, and said, "Huh." Then, she took his right hand in her left. "Weird." Her eyes drifted shut and she swayed a little in her seat. "OH. COOL."

"What?!" Wes snapped. "What are you doing? Trying to get me in trouble, so Tainer breaks both my arms?"

Tyria opened her eyes, smiling at him. "I just figured out what the blue stuff you drank does. I scanned you with the Force. I've been practicing very basic healing techniques with Master Skywalker."

"What?!"

"It's attaching itself to the alcohol in your bloodstream and breaking it down into smaller bits. Then, it gobbles the bits up."

"So? All I need to know is it works, I'm not drunk anymore, and I'm sleepy," Wes told her.

Tyria nodded, "Sugar crash." She released his hand, then patted it once in an oddly tender gesture. "Between rounds we'll need to find you some cake."

"There's cake? Nobody mentioned cake."

"Of course we have cake, Wes," Corran assured him. "Mirax made two of them herself."

The first hand Wes bombed out with a hand of twenty five. "Tyria," he whined. "Stop it."

Several people chuckled and Wes scowled at them each in turn. Then, he turned his attention to Corran. "Horn. Distract me from this pain. Tell me what you like best about Rogue Squadron."

With no hesitation, Corran admitted, "Flying, of course. Ooryl and I have our timing so perfect, now, it's like we're reading each other's minds."

"Maybe you are?" A B-wing pilot asked. "Couldn't Jedi read minds?"

Corran shrugged, "Maybe with years of training. I can't read minds. I just feel like Ooryl and I are perfectly in synch."

Wes groaned, slapping his forehead. "Oh Corran, you complete dolt, don't you know that's one of the key phrases you should never let a superior officer hear come flying out of your mouth?"

"Comfortable. Complacent. Corpse." Tyria recited the mantra for Corran. 

"Exactly," Wes agreed. "Where did you learn that, Tyria?"Tyria blinked at him, surprised. "Well, you taught it to me, Wes."

"Huh. I did?"

"Yes, you did." She shook her blonde head at Corran and tsked. "You just jinxed yourself, Corran. If I'd said something like that in Wes' hearing when he was XO in the Wraiths, I would go down in flames. Very first thing he would have done at the next briefing would be to put all the pilots names on slips of flimsy and make us draw names out of a helmet to pick a new wingman."

"Sithspit!" Corran exclaimed. "You wouldn't be that evil."

"Calm down, Horn. We're no decor tonight and I'm not the Rogues XO."

"The Rogues are going to need a new pilot soon," Tyria told Wes, cheerfully. "There's no trainer better than you."

"There's Hobbs, he's just as good as me," Wes assured her. "In fact, he's much better at the business end of running a Squadron. It's kind of sick and twisted, but Hobbie likes doing paperwork. He hums jaunty little tunes as he files reports."

"Nobody like reports," Tyria groaned. "I loathe reports."

Wes grinned at the pretty Wraith. "I hate filing reports, too. I'm better with the people aspects, like the training simulations and pilot evaluations. It was why Hobbs and I chose to stick with it as long as we did. It played to our strengths, and we reinforced each other's weakness."

"I'm not trying to sound like a boot kisser, Wes, but I had more trainers than most pilots in the New Republic, and things never really came together for me. It was always just out of reach until you and Wedge brought me in for the Wraiths. Things just clicked in my head when you explained it. You made learning interesting with your funny stories to illustrate your points. You made even the boring topics relevant. I'm glad I was on the path to washing out or you wouldn't have found me and saved me." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

Blushing, Wes ducked his head. "I wouldn't go that far."

She reached out, taking his face tenderly in her hands. In a voice only Wes could hear, she stated, "You doubt me when you shouldn't; And you especially doubt yourself right now," she told him, sadly. "Poor Wes, your Force sense is all tied in knots." 

A tear slipped down her cheek and dropped onto his hand where he held his cards. "Your shields are weakening, Wes Janson, and when they fail completely, all the people who care about you are going to finally get in. Make it easy on yourself and surrender. Give up and let us all into your heart. We have your back. We won't let you fall. You just have to learn to trust your friends as much as we trust you." Tyria kissed him full on the mouth, and when she broke the kiss, she looked completely embarrassed. 

Clearing her throat, she muttered, "I shoulda known the death punch would give me Force visions. It's why I don't drink much alcohol."

"Force visions?" Wes gaped, shocked.

"Just a small one." She looked down at her cards.

Wes grimaced. "You kissed me... in front of everyone."

"Do you want me to say I'm sorry? I'm totally not." Her smirk was very smug. "Not sorry."

"I can't fly with two broken arms," Wes reminded her. 

Corran cursed and muttered, "Bleeding Sabacc Shift."

"No, no, no, no, no," Wes told his cards. "What are you doing? Don't do this to me, guys."

The B-wing pilot's forehead banged the table in frustration. "Twenty-six."

"So, Wes, who would you pick as my wingman?"

"Uhm. Anyone except Ooryl?"

Corran glared at him. "No helpful suggestions?"

"Never thought about it," Wes admitted. "I guess someone will need to think about it when we get a new person to fill out the roster. Personally, I love flying with new pilots."

"Wedge always had the new person fly paired with him."

Janson shrugged, "The Colonel is not Wedge. Tycho's all wrong for taking new pilots as his wingman." 

Someone from the table behind Wes, maybe Inyri or Asyr, asked, "What makes you say that?"

"Wedge could coddle people, babysit and fly at the same time." He frowned, trying to work out how to phrase what he was about to say, so it wouldn't ruffle Tycho's feathers if it got back to him. "The Rogues we've got are great pilots. Some of the best ever. Top of that list, even above Wedge most days, is our new CO. Tycho's just too superior a pilot to match with a new guy. He'd have to intentionally fly bad for a new Rogue to keep up with him. Two weeks in and he'd be tearing his hair out from having to restrain himself all the time."

"So, who takes the new guy, then?" 

"Just about anyone. I'd tap Gavin, though." Wes said, grinning. "He's showed definite leadership potential, and he listens and adapts to change well."

Gavin's voice came from a table to his right, "Thanks, Wes. I think."

"You're welcome." Waving a hand in the air, he said, "Heh. I should charge for this stuff." 

"You'd get paid for using your brain if you were CO or XO."

"I don't know who said that, but whoever you are, butt out. I hate having to drop the heavy end of the hammer on people, it's no fun. Pass. I'm comfortable as just a Rogue."

"Wait. Wait." Corran stopped him. "Didn't you just tell me never to say stuff like that?"

Wes winked at him. "I can say stuff like that for two reasons: One, because I outrank you and almost everyone else. It's kinda fun being a Major. Two, I have a carefully cultivated reputation for getting revenge on people who cross me. Who's idiotic enough to risk a prank from me?" 

"Good points," Corran agreed.

"Well, I'm done." Wes grumped. "This is me... vaped in round three by a kriffing Sabacc Shift. Sabacc is just no fun sober. Anyone wants me, I'll be in the loser room, dancing with the rest of the losers."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Face, I need to talk to you, Wraith One to Wraith Six."

Face blinked green eyes up at Tyria. "We're off the clock, Six. You're allowed to relax and have fun."

"We're never off the clock, and you know it. And there's a problem."

Loran's brain automatically switched over to CO mode when he heard the word 'problem'. "Okay. I'm mostly sober, you might as well tell me."

Tyria looked around to make sure nobody was in hearing range. "Well, two problems, really."

"Oh, good. Only one problem would be too easy,"

With a huff, Tyria tapped his arm lightly in impatience. "Wes is in trouble."

"More than normal?"

Tyria smirked. "I had a Force vision while I was holding his hand." She blushed. "I kinda saw pieces of things in his immediate future... He's having a rough time, putting too much pressure on himself, and he's been hiding it and holding lots of stuff in. He made me cry, and then I... kissed him. Poor Wes. He needed to be kissed."

"Do I need to keep Kell from breaking both his arms?"

Tyria bit her lower lip and shook her head, "You need to get Wes alone. Then, you need to tell him the General and Colonel are lovers, before he figures it out on his own and implodes."

"You picked up on Klivian's hints, too." Face beamed with pride. "Good girl."

"I caught it, and it makes me sick to meddle in his personal life, but this has far reaching implications. We're talking about the happiness of several people."

Face nodded grimly. "Why can't I tell him tomorrow?"

"Best case scenario from my vision is to tell him tonight. As soon as you can, but privately. You might throw in some kissing, if you can manage to do it and get caught in the act by the Colonel. In this, jealousy is helpful."

"So the Force is telling me I must make out with Wes Janson? I can get behind that."

"Yeah, I guess it is, but it brings me to problem number two. I don't know how much longer I can put off joining the training at the Jedi Academy. Stuff is coming online inside me and I'm not able to control it."

It was news to him. "This is since your latest visit with Skywalker?" 

She bit her lip a second time. "As my CO, I thought you should know first. I think Kell suspects it, but I've been stalling to talk to you."

"I give you special permission, Tyria Sarkin, to discuss all baby Jedi related angst with your partner before you bring it to me."

All the pent up tension in her shoulders slipped away, "Oh, good. Thank you, One."

"Hey, Tainer," Face said into his earpiece, "I need you to give me a promise. No matter what happens tonight, don't break Janson's arms. It's not good for inter-squad relations."

"No broken arms. Check, Boss. Can I break his nose?"

"No. No noses."

"You're no fun."

"Thank you. I try really hard to suck the fun out of every task. I hope you appreciate all my efforts."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Wedge, your Wraiths just hacked my table tokens for the fourth round. I only managed to put some of the tables back to the correct seating order. Tell them to stop it," Mirax demanded, exasperation and the beginnings of anger in her dark eyes.

Wedge looked up from his cards to grin at her. "Not my Wraiths." He placed a card in the stasis field at the center of the table and shrugged. "Talk to Face."

Crossing her arms over her chest, the Corellian woman scowled, "Or I could kick them out."

Turning in his seat, Wedge scanned the faces at the other tables. "Only Piggy and Runt are left in the tournament. Oh, and Kell of course." Kell was at his table. They made eye contact and he notice the earpiece in his right ear. "What's going on, Kell?"

"Classified."

Wedge's eyes shifted to Mirax, "Kick the ones out who are no longer playing."

"NO!" Kell interjected, shaking his head violently. "You can't. Please don't."

Mirax growled. 

"I'm authorized to tell you we're really sorry, especially Face."

"Why are you running an op in the middle of my Sabacc tournament? You better be authorized to answer or I'm going to hit you, big man or not."

Tainer winced, "I've been authorized to let you hit me, if it makes you feel better, and I'd never hit you back. I like you. And I can say all will be explained after the situation has resolved itself."

Mirax glared at Wedge, waggled a finger in front of his nose. "They may not be your squadron, anymore, but I still blame you, Veggie. Who the Force gets up one morning and thinks, 'Gee, the New Republic doesn't have a group of sneaky troublemakers who excel at drama, fibbing, blowing things up and flying around wreaking havoc everywhere they kriffing go? This will be useful to us. I should go start one.'"

"Ouch," Kell moaned, clutching his chest. "Direct hit. Center of mass. Kill shot." 

Wedge copied Kell's motion, clutching his own chest, though even more dramatically. "Two down with one torpedo. I'm eating vacuum."

"Men..." Mirax spat, turned on her heel and stalked away.

When she was out of earshot, Wedge asked, "Can you tell me, now?"

"Still classified."

"Shavit, Tainer." Wedge ran a hand through his hair. "I can't provide cover if I don't know what you are up to. You are on your own."

"Understood."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Face!" Wes greeted him. "Were you eliminated in the third round, too?"

"Something like that," Face told him. It wasn't a lie. He'd eliminated himself from the play by quitting. Then, he rigged someone to sit in the fourth round at the table with all the worst players left in the tournament. Luck or no luck, they would be easy pickings for someone with Tycho Celchu's skill at Sabacc. The Colonel would vape them all and have plenty of time to spare before the final round.

It was time to set his plan into action. "I need to talk to you," Face told Wes, after pulling him into a private room at the far end of the hall. He handed Wes a large slice of cake. "This is from Tyria. She's worried about your blood sugar." Loran rolled his eyes, dramatically. "Who knew the whole lot would turn out to be a flock of mother hens? Oh, and Kell is under orders not to break your arms or your nose."

"Thanks, I think." Eyeing the Wraith CO suspiciously, he ventured to ask, "What are you up to?"

"Most of what I'm up to is classified, of course, but I have important intel you need to hear. Tonight. Now."

"It can't wait until tomorrow? We're supposed to be having fun. Intel is never any fun."

Face shook his head, adamant. "Not this. Eat the cake, Janson, or my baby Jedi will zap me with the training lightsaber Luke Skywalker gave her last week " 

"Oh, all right. For the record, the timing stinks, but I'm listening." Wes obediently dug into the cake and Face smiled to himself at how easily Wes did what he was told.

"We need to agree on my consultation fee for this first."

"Bouncing bantha balls, Face," Wes grumbled. "You'd charge me to bore me with intel?"

"Yes," Face told him, his expression solemn. "Do you need an explanation?"

Setting the empty plate down, Wes crossed his arms and glared, "I'm sober, unlike most people around here tonight. So, yes, explain."

"You announced to everyone, on an open comm frequency I might add, that you've had a relationship with a man." Face matched Wes' glare with one of his own. "That intel has rocked our happy little ship like a volley of proton torpedos. There are at least two betting pools I'm in regarding you and Wedge, and one of those pools says you're not into men and it's broken Wedge's heart and he is leaving the Rogues to recover from the heartbreak. I'm betting against that one, by the way."

Wes made a strangled gurgling sound, and commenced to muttering, "Great, just great."

"For my fee, I want to kiss you for three minutes at the end of my report, and for every theory of mine proven right, I get ten credits from you. Payable on demand."

"What is it with everyone kissing me? Wedge. Tyria. Now, you."

"Good place to start. You just confirmed it, in fact." Loran held up one finger. "Theory one: Wedge came to your apartment the night before his announcement to tell you he was leaving. You were understandably crushed and he softened the blow with a goodnight kiss."

"Sithspit."

"Ten credits. I will happily start your a tab."

"Fine. I agree to the deal, but why?"

"You're usually pretty good at reading people, not as good as I am, but who is? It's understandable. Wedge's sudden departure has thrown you for a loop. You're flying belly to sky and missing all the clues right in front of your nose."

"Hobbs called me dense as duracreet," Wes admitted. "Are you going to insult me, too?"

Face winced, head shaking. "No, Wes. You may not agree with it, but I consider you one of mine." He held up a hand to forestall Wes' impending denial. "You were only my XO for a very short time, but that made you my first, and therefore a special case. You almost died in that incinerator on my watch. What I'm trying to say is once a Wraith always a Wraith, just like it is in the Rogues." 

Knowing he had found the right mix of hard-headed stubbornness and deep concern, Loran added, "I'm going to give you my analysis of the data you've missed tonight. Then, before every damn guy in Starfighter Command gets in the line, I'm going to get my chance to kiss you." Face held up two fingers. "You're about to get sucked into the gravity well named Wedge Antilles and are potentially lost to me forever." His pair of fingers made a swirling circling motion. 

"What makes you think..."

"Ah. Nope. Stop right there. Since you departed us for Rogue Squadron, we've had to implement some ground rules regarding honesty. Wraiths don't lie to each other. Not ever. We have to tell enough lies to maintain our covers on our missions. Lying and evading are exhausting, Wes. If we lie to each other, we vape the trust we need to function as a unit and someone we love might die because of it." 

When Wes looked sufficiently cowed, Face added, "Sarkin and Tainer started calling it Setting Honesty To On. The name has sorta stuck. It's rule number one in the official Wraith Squadron Handbook. I'll send you a copy, so we don't have to run them down for you one at a time." 

"I told Wedge I love him," Wes confessed. "It just sort popped out."

Face nodded, encouraging the Rogue to open up, if only just a tiny crack. "After he kissed you or before?"

"After. He was almost to the door."

"What did he say?"

Wes bit the inside of his lip. "He said, 'I know.'"

It was Face's turn to make the strangled vexation sound. "So not helpful, Wedge. Did he say anything less... idiotic and Corellian?"

"Yes. We would circle back to the conversation when his transfer was complete."

"And?"

"He's here. We talked for a few minutes at the bar."

"Where do I even start?" Face pondered aloud. "Okay, I know. Gavin and the Hoth Protocol debacle. Great kriffing job there, people. All we CO's need is an excuse for orgies breaking out all over the place, as fun as that may be. What was I saying? Oh, right. Wedge's first lover on Hoth, not a real surprise there: Commander Luke Skywalker, of the green hair. Excellent job on the prank, by the way. Truly inspired. I would expect no less from you." Face watched Wes for his reaction. "Just so you know, there aren't any hard line rules in Starfighter Command forbidding the CO of a unit from having a relationship with a subordinate squad-mate. I know. I looked."

"Because of Dia?"

"Yes, but let's stay on target. I have a timetable to keep. How do you feel about Wedge being with Luke? A little envious, maybe? Surprised?"

Wes tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe a little, but there have always been vague rumors about Luke and Wedge and Biggs Darklighter, too. It's ancient history. Luke left the Rogues to Wedge after Hoth to become a Jedi." He paced back and forth in front of Face's spot on the couch. "They don't see much of each other, anymore. I'm fine with it. Not jealous."

Face took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. A standard calming and centering technique. "Hobbie was trying to clue you in on Wedge's second lover. Klivian said the person is like a brother." Not waiting for Wes to reply, Face pressed on,"Brother implies male and the relationship is so close, to Klivian's way of thinking, it's borderline incestuous."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"I really don't want to be the one who has to tell you. It should be Wedge saying this. Who knows what all will happen before Wedge has the chance to get you alone and tell you?"

"Face. Just tell me. Stop trying to sugar coat it."

Face closed his eyes. The calming breaths weren't helping and the blue stuff had snuffed out his buzz. "It is my belief Wedge's other lover on Hoth is the new CO of Rogue Squadron, and your new boss, Tycho Celchu."

"Did you say Tycho? As in he's been a Rogue all these years with us... that Tycho?" Wes gaped at him in disbelief and something near horror; his pacing stopped and he just stood by the arm of the couch frozen from the shock, all color drained from his face.

"One might feel such a relationship was incestuous, right? I don't know if I want to be right on this, Wes, for your sake. This has gotta hurt."

"If it's true... You think Wedge planned to tell me?""Yes. He loves you, too. Although, he would be better off if he just came out and said it. Wedge has been chasing you for as long as I've known you, and the way Tycho looks at you..."

"How does he look at me?" Wes asked, bitterly. "I'm as dense as duracreet, remember, so you may have to spell it out in small words."

"Klivian said you are Tycho's favorite. When Colonel Celchu looks at you, there is so much raw emotion... affection, tenderness, admiration. It's all off the top of the charts since you rejoined the Rogues."

"Wedge said we rub each other the wrong way."

"Or you rub Tycho the right way, and he doesn't know you are open to sex with men and it makes both of them sad and crazy and frustrated beyond belief."

"Yeah, right."

"Another of my predictions: the reason the Rogue duo got together in the first place on Hoth, was a shared desire for you. They can't have you; They both want you. And after a night of drinking to forget your adorableness, they end up in a bunk together taking their shared frustrations out on each other."

"Nobody is that pathetic."

Face shrugged. "Then, you won't owe me ten credits for it if I'm way off, but if I am right on this one, I get ten credits extra." He patted the couch seat beside him. "How do you feel?"

"I feel like I've been stabbed in the side with a vibroblade and I'm staring down at myself and thinking why do I have a bloody vibroblade handle sticking out of my side?"

"It's called shock, my friend, and it doesn't just apply to physical injuries. I'm so sorry Wes," Face said. "You needed to know."

Suddenly, Wes looked sad and lost, but he managed to say, "I guess I did need to know."

"So you forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive, Face. You aren't one of my best friends who had a romance with a fellow squad-mate and kept it a secret for years. What I don't understand is why? They have each other. Why do they want me?"

Face rubbed his hands together. "This is my best theory. If I were to oversee the publication of a guide for interspecies dating and mating practices. I'd be remiss if I failed to include a reference chart, at the back, for the aliens who want to bed humans, both male and female. 

"One of the categories with little check boxes would cover societal normals for as many human cultures as I could find. There would be a column for sexual preferences, of course. Some societies don't support couples of the same gender. And there would be a column for the family groups, like which societies are only on board with two partner couples and which are more broadminded, with a majority of family groups consisting of three or more partners." 

Face had to take a breath in his speech. "Where would Tanaab fall?"

"I only have two parents," Wes told him. "One male, one female. Not all families are like mine, though. One of my aunts has two husbands and another wife. It's a very personal choice."

"Wedge had two parents, or so I've gathered from the limited data available."

"Yeah."

"You know who grew up in a more "typical" Corellian family?"

Wes sighed, "Who?"

"Iella Wasseri."

"You've been working with Iella?"

"And Lady Winter, too."

"I know Iella. I like her. Winter, well she's in relationship with Tycho and she... kinda frightens me."

"Iella has three moms and two dads. They all raised her and her three siblings and treated her as their biological daughter. Who actually conceived her wasn't all that important in their family." He gave Wes a small secretive smile. "Guess what other culture is big on sharing the love?"

"Pantalomin?"

"Nah. We are mostly monogamous. I, however, have overcome my sheltered upbringing and I'm all about sharing if you are interested in going Wraith with Dia and me." He wagged his eyebrows at Wes suggestively.

Of all the revelations he'd fired at Wes, the lame attempt at flirtation had the other man sitting down hard on the couch, not as close as Face would have preferred, but at least he wasn't going to fall down. "Are you going to hit on me all the time?" Wes asked, eyeing him with irritation.

"You wish."

Wes groaned, placing his face in his hands. "What is the other culture who likes to share?"

"Alderaanians."

"Oh... OH." The green light of understanding lit for Wes. "I should try on Wedge's boot. Hobbie is suggesting I should sleep with Tycho?" 

"Yes, you're finally getting it. Everyone knows you've had a male lover, now. And just maybe, your Rogues are learning this for the first time tonight. If I were to write a disgustingly sappy, but very sexy, romance holo script about a trio of hot pilots who take too many years to figure out they love each other, this would be the point where they relentlessly pursue you. It probably already started back with Wedge's kiss. They just figured out they can get a lock on you. Given time, they will analyze the data and formulate the whole campaign to win you over. You see Tycho almost daily. You have to know they will take any clear shot when it's presented to them."

"Do you have a plan or is it going to cost extra?"

"I owed you one from when you chose me to be in Wraith Squadron over all the other pilots you were given."

Wes raised an eyebrow. "Tyria said something to that effect right before she kissed me."

"We could skip to the kissing part," Face told him.

Wes rolled his eyes and grimaced, "You ARE going to hit on me all the time."

"After three minutes of kissing you, probably the tiny infatuation I feel for you will be out of my system." When Wes looked dubious, he added, "How about if I only flirt with you when Wedge and Tycho can overhear and get insanely jealous?"

"Better."

"I could be a friend with sexual benefits?"

Janson winced, "Try again."

"You could try out your kinky stuff on me first, and I will evaluate it for hotness."

"The plan, Face?"

"What did you teach us to do when we have a pair of relentless TIE fighters on our tail chewing up our aft shields and working together to take us out?" Face shook his head, sadly, when Wes just started at him. "Cut the forward momentum and get them to overshoot you. Then, you are behind them with them in your sights."

Wes clapped his hands together. "This is a good plan. Reverse our positions, and take some control over the situation."

"Whatever happens in the near future, I want you to know we Wraiths have your back. Anytime. Anywhere. Drinking buddy, shoulder to cry on, whatever you need."

Wes sighed. "I appreciate it. Now, I want to kiss YOU."

"Good news! This is the kissing part."

Face slid over and pulled Wes to him by his vest. They had a few seconds to look into each other's eyes before Face brought their lips together in a sweetly chaste kiss. This was followed by more slow, soft kisses. Wes eventually grew impatient and gripped his shoulders, pulling Face in and deepening the kiss himself. Growling low in his chest, Loran broke the kiss and whispered, "My kisses. I set the pace."

The hands at his shoulders slipped down his arms, and Face smirked, "You are such a bottom, Janson. It's no wonder Winter scares you." He resumed his slow exploration of Wes' mouth. When they came up for air, he whispered, "Fair warning: You're naturally wired to take orders. Wedge and Tycho are used to giving orders. You aren't going to be in control for long with those two. Set boundaries and ground rules with them early."

Pressing Wes back against the arm of the couch, Loran pinned Wes' wrists and moved over him to resume kissing. They were still at it hot and heavy, the three minute limit forgotten, when the door to the room slid open and Tycho stormed in, pulling up short when he found them tangled together in a serious lip lock. 

Wes scrambled up in alarm and Face followed him to his feet. He stretched, like a cat waking from a nap. "Something wrong, Tycho?"

"You sliced into the table chits and put me at a table with all the worst players," Celchu accused. 

"Can you prove it?"

"Yes. Mirax is monitoring the feed to the table tokens, and she told me."

Caught in the act, Face didn't bother to deny it. "You wanted time to talk to Wes alone, didn't you? He wants to talk to you, too. And look at that... here you both are and this private room is all yours." 

Face headed for the exit with all haste to leave the two Rogues alone to 'talk'. 

"Face?" Wes called to him. 

He waved a hand back at Wes. "I know."


	6. Damage Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes asks questions. The answers are not what he wants to hear. Wedge and Tycho are thrown into damage control mode. Face regrets.
> 
> Trigger warning mention of potential non-con, rape. Didn't happen, though. Thank goodness.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two Rogues as they stood facing each other, the vacuum of Face's exit sucking the oxygen from the room. When Wes spoke, he found his voice surprisingly hoarse, "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah, and you wanted to talk to me, too," Tycho agreed.

"I have a question." Not trusting his legs, Wes stumbled blindly back to the couch and took the spot formerly occupied by Loran.

Tycho went to a chair opposite the couch and sat, as well. "Alright, ask."

"Are you attracted to me?"

The question made a familiar frown line form on the Alderaanian Colonel's brow. "Can I choose not to answer that?" His posture had stiffened, back gone ramrod straight, arms on the chair's worn arm rests. 

Wes shook his head, "No."

"Why not?""Because I'm stone cold sober, it's no decor night, and... I just won't accept NO ANSWER for an answer." 

"Shavit," Tycho cursed. "Okay... yes."

"Since when?"

The other man shrugged, crossing his arms defensively and leaning back. He refused to make eye contact as he said, "I don't know."

Wes tilted his head and considered, changed the direction of his attack slightly. "Could you maybe narrow it down to one of the eight years we've flown together."

"Six and a half years," Celchu corrected him. "Give or take."

Wes wasn't tracking. "What?"

"We've flown together approximately six and a half years. You were gone for fourteen months on assignment with Klivian training those three fighter squadrons. I was gone for six months being captured and tortured and held prisoner by Iceheart."

Wincing at the almost casual mention of the hardships Tycho endured, Wes reluctantly accepted this. "Six and a half years, then. Can you narrow the start of your attraction down to one of those years, please."

"Why?"

"Because, I am asking nicely."

"The first year," Tycho muttered, almost too low for Wes to make out.

Glumly, Wes wondered just how many of Face's insights were going to hit the mark tonight. The only one that mattered was the biggest one... "Were you and Wedge lovers at Hoth?" 

"What did you just say?" Tycho demanded, caught completely off guard and obviously reeling. Apprehension overtook the shock almost immediately, sending him into evasive maneuvers. "I don't think this is an appropriate..."

The imaginary vibroblade in Wes' side slid a burning line of agony across his belly. "Are you still lovers, now?"

"Wes..."

In a distant part of his brain, Wes had to think this is what being gutted felt like. His insides felt like they were free to spill out in a tangled mess on the floor at his feet. Probably the pain alone would kill him. "I don't think I have any other questions," Wes heard himself say. It was funny, because the voice didn't sound like him, at all. "You can go."

"Listen, Wes..."

That weird not-Wes voice came out of his mouth, again. "I said get out," not-Wes commanded.

"And if I don't?" Tycho countered, the mutinous tone signaling this wasn't going to be easy.

Wes looked up at Tycho and their eyes held for a long tense moment. "Go. Or, I'll say something that will make you hurt as badly as I'm hurting," his tone was as cold and hard as the ice planet where they'd met.

Tycho blew out a breath and muttered, "Damn it."

"Huh. You're still here," not-Wes remarked, mildly surprised.

This brought Tycho out of his seat, fists clenched and his eyes flashing dangerously. "You think I'd just leave with you in this condition?!"

The door slid open and Wedge walked in.

Not-Wes sounded relieved, "Oh, good. Wedge is here." "What's going on?" His gaze traveled from Wes to Tycho's raised fists, and back to Wes, instantly keying in to the unnaturally high tension between the men. "What did I miss?"

"I came in and found Face kissing Wes."

"Tycho was just leaving," not-Wes told Wedge. "You could go together."

"Wait, what? Loran?"

Not-Wes nodded, one curt downward jerk from his chin. "Face is a good friend. Once a Wraith always a Wraith."

"Wes asked me if you and I were lovers at Hoth, and... Blast it, Wedge, he asked if we are still lovers, now?"

"Oh no," Wedge groaned. "What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything. I didn't know what TO say."

"I SAY GET OUT!!!" Not-Wes roared at them, startling them both and making them jump. Then, he slid down the couch and curled in on himself, arms wrapped protectively across his his middle to keep his guts inside him. "Go away, go away, go away," Wes chanted the mantra to himself, under his breath.

"Why did Face do this?" Wedge managed between gritted teeth.

"Why didn't we consider this, Wedge? How the longer this went on, the more it would feel like a betrayal to Wes when he found out?""Because we're idiots, obviously. And now, it's too late to remote detonate those torpedos because they've already hit. So, how do we fix this?"

"Can we repair this kind of damage?"

Wedge glared at him, eyes wild. "I do not accept we can't fix this. Our stupidity made this mess. We've got to find a way to fix this, or we'll lose him. Wes is never going to be an acceptable loss."

When the Colonel's face crumpled into a look of anguish mirroring Wedge's own, Wedge's alcohol softened brain slipped, finally, into action mode. "Step one, get Wes back into his own head," the Corellian breathed. "The deadness in his voice is breaking my heart down to the atomic level."

"HE was issuing orders to ME," Tycho said, slightly awed. "And, I don't think I've ever heard him yell at anyone in that way."

Making their way to the couch, they managed to get the big man out of his fetal position and slid down to sit on either side of him, arms wrapping around him to hold him tightly. Wes' head slumped onto Wedge's shoulder, hot tears wetting the thin, silky fabric of Wedge's shirt. 

"Hurts," Wes, the real Wes, whimpered against Wedge's collarbone.

"I know, Wes. I'm so sorry. It's hurting me, too," Wedge confessed. "Seeing you hurting is more painful than anything anyone could ever do to me."

"Say words," Wes demanded, huskily. "Need words."

Wedge's lips twitched, and he lifted Wes' face to look into those sad, hurt eyes. "I love you, Wes Janson. Practically from the first minute I met you, but definitely from the point when Luke made us wing mates at Hoth."

"Tell us what to do. Order us around. Just don't shut us out, Wes, please," Tycho added. "Why didn't you ever tell anyone about you and Dack?"

Wes glanced over his shoulder at Tycho. "I told Hobbie."

"Derek kept your secret," Wedge sighed. "Too well, in fact. We didn't know you were open to dating men until Mirax told me today."

Tycho's hand gently rubbed Wes' back, and when he leaned forward to rest his cheek between Wes' shoulder blades, the other didn't complain, or try to shrug him off as Tycho felt he deserved. "All you had to do was give us some sign, one tiny hint and things would have been different, Wes."

Janson snorted. "Is this the part where you tell me you only became lovers because you couldn't have me?" 

"Not far off the mark," Wedge affirmed.

Wes scowled, "I don't believe you."

"Wes, we aren't going to lie to you about something this important," Tycho assured him. 

"That's stupid. Face's ridiculous theory." The look he gave Tycho over his shoulder was not happy. "You have a scary and beautiful girlfriend. You have Wedge. And now you want me, too. Don't you think that's... greedy?"

"Winter and I have zero complaints," Wedge admitted. "We've come to enjoy the arrangement. You would enjoy it, too, I imagine."

"Stupid Face theory strikes, again. Corellians and Alderaanians aren't monogamous," Wes made the statement in a petulant bratty voice, the contempt growing with each word. 

"I wouldn't say all of any society is any one thing, but Tycho and I aren't monogamous. Neither is Winter."

Tycho nodded, "Winter is dating a woman, currently. What makes her happy, makes me happy." Moving his cheek on Wes' back up to his shoulder, he pressed a kiss to the spot behind his right ear. "Do you only crave one type of dessert? If all you could ever have is Tanaabian fruitcake, wouldn't you feel like you missed out on all the other flavors of cake?"

"Awful analogy," Wedge groused. "For me, I would say each person fulfills a different basic need. Tycho's sort of like my need for sleep. His influence is calming, soothing and recharging me. Sithspit, Wes, you're like oxygen, you're part of my daily existence. Not something I can do without or choose to give up. I'm better just having you in the same room with me, and the air in any room is stale if you aren't around. Can you see how both things are vital? You can't choose one. They are both necessities." 

"You chase women constantly, Wes," Tycho stated, exasperated. "Isn't it because being too long with the same person bores you?"

Wes turned his body around to face Tycho, sliding his knee up onto the couch to put a small barrier between their bodies. "Maybe. I like to chase, and flirting is fun."

The General pulled Wes back against his chest, his arms bruising tight around the other's ribs. "You don't stay with any one of them long enough for us to even meet her. It's like the women are gone after one night." Then, a thought occurred to him. "You do date them for more than one night, right?"

Wes shifted a little in Wedge's arms, forcing Wedge to loosen his grip even when he didn't want to. He wouldn't meet their eyes. "Wes?"

Tycho placed his hands on Wes' shoulders, gripping and kneading the tension there. "How about a stupid Tycho theory, this time? I don't think you catch many of those women you engage. A few, here and there. Mostly, if you get a lock on them you intentionally say or do something stupid to chase them off, or let them get away. I imagine you let them down gently, if possible, and make up stuff to brag to everyone about."

"Women want to settle down after too many dates. Have families. It's not fair to them to get too far when I'm not interested in marriage or babies."

Wedge felt saddened by this revelation. "Why not?"

Wes rolled his eyes even though only Tycho could see it. "Six younger siblings, Wedge. Squadrons full of green pilots. I've had lots of experience with kids. I like kids. Kids are the most fun sort of people. Definitely more fun than most adults."

"The burden of responsibility scares you," Tycho surmised. "The idea they are yours and you are the most important person to them. The responsibility never goes away. It's a lifetime commitment. They are dependent on you." 

Wes nodded, biting his lip. "Not unlike the way the Rogues are yours, now."

Wedge rested his forehead on Wes' shoulder to hide a tear as it escaped. 

Tycho's reaction was unexpected as he dragged Wes to him with hands fisted in the front of his shirt and kissed him, claiming his mouth and tangling their tongues. 

"What was that for?" Wes gasped, when the other man finally released him.

Pale blue eyes dilated in desire, Tycho huffed, "Brilliant insights just slip out of your mouth at unexpected moments. I get overwhelmed with the need to kiss you."

Wedge chuckled. "Only now do you begin to see the true depths of what I was dealing with during the Wraiths, Tych. Welcome to my personal hell." 

At the baleful glare Wes shot over his shoulder at him, Wedge clarified, "Just wait until he launches the brilliant insight at you in front of the other pilots, and you can't just stop the kriffing briefing to kiss him for it, as it would smack of favoritism. That's maddening as hell." 

"Not brilliant."

Tycho shook his head, and kissed him again. Against their parted lips, he said, "So brilliant, sometimes, it hurts the eyes to look at you. Training squads are easy. You go into it knowing you don't get to keep them, so you stay disengaged emotionally. Having them permanently is a terrifying responsibility. They become family."

"I will confirm that," Wedge nodded.

Tycho looked at the chrono on his wrist. "We are going to need to hurry this up if we want to get to the making up part before the final round of the tournament. Wes needs to hear MY Hoth story."

Wes gaped at the Colonel, jaw adorably slack in shock. "We are not having sex here tonight."

"Why not?" Wedge pouted. 

"Yeah, Wes, why not?"

Janson put the back of a hand to his forehead, dramatically. "It's wrong, on so many levels, for you two to be the horny, drunken flyboys who need to be reigned in. It's just plain unnatural for ME to be the responsible adult in this room." 

The current and former CO's of Rogue squadron looked at each other and smiled.

Wes groaned, "There has never ever been a situation where alcohol was more necessary for my sanity and general survival, so why did I go and make myself sober?"

"Hoth Protocol?" Wedge asked, hopefully.

"NO!" Wes insisted, glaring disapprovingly. He waved a hand at Tycho. "Story. Tell me the story." 

When Wedge started kissing his way up the side of Wes' neck, Janson shrugged him off. "Bad Wedge. Story time first." He shifted on the couch until he was facing front, both feet on the floor, like normal people sit on couches.

Wedge grinned. "Making out later. He didn't say we couldn't have making out later."

"One. Two. Three."

"He's counting," Tycho announced, suspiciously. 

Wedge nodded. "He's never counted at us before. I think counting is bad, Tych."

"Counting down is always bad. Boom. Counting up? I dunno. You should tell him before he yells at us, again, though."

"Hoth."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Are you okay, Face?"

Face didn't feel okay. He felt sick as the gravity of what he'd just done caught up with him. It was one thing to tease and joke with comrades, but it was something else entirely to meddle in the emotional lives of people he cared about. There would be a price to pay for what he'd done. Whatever happened in the next half hour was his fault. If lives were destroyed, that was on him. 

"Please tell me, again, I had to do that to our Wes."

Tyria blew out a breath fluttering her blonde bangs. "Yes. I believe it with all my heart."

"And your gut."

"No doubts, Face, this was the right course of action, at the right time."

Face took a sip of his punch. "Then, why do I feel the need to throw up?"

"Trust your gut, trust your squad-mates, trust the Force."

"Sithspit," Face cursed mildly, half smiling. "That's good enough to win the pool."

Tyria nodded, "I've been saving it 'til the pool was bigger." Smirking, she crossed her arms, "As if you need money. Ever. I have a wedding to plan for."

"Speaking of weddings, It stings a little how our Myn went and got married without us..."

Tyria nodded. "I want revenge."

"Party with lots of presents and cake?" Face suggested, instead. 

"Uhm, One? What are the odds the General would finish the fourth round early and be wandering around?"

Face shook his head. "Slim. Unlikely. I stacked him against Nawara and Asyr."

"Oh, good. Then that's probably not Wedge I caught a glimpse of just now headed toward the private rooms..."

Slapping himself on the forehead, Face told Tyria, "Go make sure Shalla and Elassar have Klivian pinned down." 

She nodded, hurrying off in the direction of the couches on the opposite side of the dance floor. 

The CO of Wraith squadron strode casually toward the wide doors leading out of the ball room. He'd just passed through the double doors when he heard a thunderous bellow from the last room in the hall outside the ballroom, "I SAY GET OUT!"

The force of it staggered him back a step or two into Horn and Darklighter who had come up behind him. The two Rogues looked at each other and as one they put themselves in the doorway with Face to block whoever was thinking of going out to investigate the shouting.

Gavin winced. "Uh oh.""Yeah. Uh oh about covers it."

"Sithspit," Corran sighed. "Wes sounds as mad as I've ever heard him. Do we need to make a plan for if this goes sideways?"

"You mean more sideways?!" Face asked, defeated. "I was sure Wedge would be at the table longer this round. I counted on it."

Corran nodded, understanding coming to him. "Mirax said you sliced the table tokens. She's quite mad at you for running an op during her tourney, by the way." He ran a hand through his short hair. "I think she managed to set most of the tables back to the way they were before people noticed."

A whimpering sound escaped from Face's throat, and he moaned, "That would explain why Wedge isn't at his assigned station."

"Face?" Donos said, casually strolling up to where they were all standing. "What are the Wraiths doing?"

"I don't know what you mean," Face lied. 

Donos humphed and narrowed his eyes. "Uh huh. You've got Shalla sitting in Klivian's lap with damn near her whole breasts exposed, and Elassar is standing two meters from their couch as backup." He gave Face a look that said, 'try again'. "Also Wes is losing his shit at someone so loudly I think maybe the whole Corellian System heard it."

Shame made Face's cheeks burn. Eyes closed, Face took some deep breaths. "I'm an idiot. I shoulda double checked."

"Can't blame yourself for what intoxicated flyboys do," Gavin told him.

Face looked at him, expression guilty and sad. "Only two of those flyboys are currently intoxicated, and neither of those is Janson."

"Face..."

Hands going up defensively, Face whispered, "Tyria said we had to run this op to help Wes. It's a hunch thing." He gave Donos shrug. "She gets Jedi hunches, now. Gut feelings and... oh, I can't say it. It sounds stupid."

"Visions," Corran supplied. "Not stupid. I'm pretty sure she had a vision at the table when she touched Wes' hand."

Donos rolled his eyes. "So, Face, what happed to 'Wraiths don't lie to each other'?" Pacing in front of the double doors, he put a hand on his head, thinking.

"Maybe the same thing that happened to 'Wraiths don't keep secrets'."

"Oh, wait just a minute. That wasn't my fault," Myn insisted. "You know how bossy she is. She gives orders, and I take them." He turned on Face. "What's your excuse?"

"This is an op, lying is okay during ops."

"Face..." Myn scolded him. 

Face sighed, "If Wedge, Wes and Tycho kill each other. I have to live with that."

"Do you think it's really a possibility?" Corran asked, incredulously. "Any blind idiot can see they're in some weird polyamorous love thing and probably have been for most of this decade."

"So?" Face countered. "Love spats usually end in one of three ways: Bodies on the ground. Sweaty sex. Talking things out."

Myn's eyes widened, "You think they're having sex?"

"No. That would be idiotic. Those doors don't lock. Even intoxicated Wedge and Tycho aren't stupid."

"Listen," Corran ordered them. "No sounds of glass breaking. No sounds of furniture breaking. No sounds of bodies hitting the ground." He gave a wan half smile. "They are most likely talking it out."

"Can't you use the Jedi thing and find out?"

Fisting his hands on his hips, Corran grumped, "No. I cannot, so kindly don't rub it in. That's just mean." He glanced over the other man's shoulder and sighed, "Please, ask Shalla not to kill Derek. He can't help himself where breast are involved."

"She volunteered."

"What! Really?"

"Yeah. And Inyri is giving her a death glare from the dance floor."

"Shalla would snap her like a twig, but you know he won't stay on the couch like that forever."

"We should make a wager."

Face shook his head. "Look at me. I'm too worried to place a bet. When has that ever happened before?"

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Hoth."

"Commander Skywalker, Luke, came to me and told me he needed to assign me as your wingman and roommate. I didn't mind, cause you're a good pilot, funny and... hot."

Wes blinked, and then nodded encouragingly. "Keep going."

"Luke also asked me to keep an eye on the new guy. The Commander was comfortable telling me he didn't like the way the new guy looked at you. It gave him a really bad feeling."

"New guy was Tycho."

"No, not exactly. Not this Tycho. Let me get to that."

Wes frowned. "Okay. Fine."

"I think Luke may have even had a Force vision. When we slept together for like the third time, Luke tossed and turned and woke up in a cold sweat. He sat up from the mass of blankets we'd fashioned into a nest on his floor and he turned to me and said, "'You need to do whatever it takes to keep him away from Wes. Follow him and put yourself in his path. I'm alright with it if you want to try to refocus his attention on you by seducing him. Do whatever you need to do. I will back you.'"

"Before you say anything, Wes," Tycho interjected. "You have to understand there are reasons I don't remember things on Hoth, like your practical joke, or threatening you after." Tycho ran fingers through his hair, tugging. "I was feeling unwell since joining the Rebellion. I was covering up by drinking too much."

Wes nodded in understanding. "A lot of pilots cover grief with alcohol."

Wedge shook his head, "This was something else, worse than his grief over loosing everyone he loved and his home to the Death Star."

"What could possibly be worse than that?"

"You were dead on target when you said he had 'madman' eyes. You have good gut instincts when it comes to danger and the pilot who came to us from that Star Destroyer was almost a rabid animal."

"I think we almost came to blows, Wedge and me, in the mess hall at dinner one night." Tycho winced. "I remember that."

Wedge nodded, "I was tired of you watching Wes. You were practically stalking him." He patted the other man's arm. "I threw myself in your path at every opportunity. My attempts at flirting crashed and burned hard."

"Obsession. It was an obsession."

"Yes, and I don't know what exactly brought it to a breaking point, but I passed you in the hall leading to our quarters, and you growled at me, "'Is Janson in there?'" Wedge shuddered. "He was drunk and determined to find you. This is really hard to say. It's hard to admit after knowing Tycho for so long. That pilot wasn't our Tycho, Wes, and my gut tells me if you'd been in our room and if he'd caught you alone... That person wouldn't have accepted no for an answer. He was wound so tight, and something had snapped."

Wes' eyes widened. "You think he would have tried to assault me?"

"Rape. Assault is too a clean word for what Wedge felt I would have been capable of." 

"Is that true, Wedge?"

"Yes. Force help me, yes. I think this is what Luke saw in his vision. Why he said I was authorized to do anything necessary to protect you."

"What did you do?"

"Wedge knocked me unconscious."

"Oh, Sithspit."

Wedge took Tycho's hand in his, kissing it tenderly. "It was for your own good, my friend, and it was part of the reason Luke asked me to be the new CO of the Rogues when he left. I proved to him I had what it took to drop the hammer on a fellow pilot, a fellow Rogue, to protect another Rogue."

"Worst part of the job," Tycho agreed. "Still, you saved me."

"How?" Wes asked, needing to know.

"Hobbie, Dack and I dragged Tycho's unconscious body to the medicals. We made up a story: Tycho bumped his head on a low hanging conduit pipe outside the pilots' quarters. Which was essentially the truth, because I did slam his head into a low hanging pipe outside the pilots' quarters."

"Ouch."

"Luke was there before the first scan was finished and I told him everything. Hobbie and Dack were shocked and horrified. Luke was sick over it."

"How long did the medics have me?"

"Six days," Wedge grimaced.

"Secret Imperial make pilots sex crazed virus?" Wes offered.

Tycho grunted, "Withdrawls. Covered up with bottles of any sort of alcohol I could get my hands on." 

"Withdrawls. As in glit-biters who don't get their drugs?" Janson struggled to understand. "Where would you get drugs on Hoth? It was a secret base. Well, until the probe droid found us, anyway."

Wedge took over, "Apparently, TIE pilots are fed a cocktail of testosterone and other performance enhancer chemicals. It could have been laced in the water or food or the very air they breathed. All we know is how much he had lingering in his system. Thank the Force, Tycho wasn't the first pilot to ever exhibit those chemical withdrawals. It was treatable. Emdees could give it back to him; and then wean him off slowly, in a controlled setting. One of the medics told me of documented cases where defecting TIE pilots went into shock in the first few weeks and dropped dead. All their organs failed."

"One way to stop the best pilots from defecting," Tycho supposed, quietly. "I didn't even know they were doing it to me, doping me up. But after it was gone, I needed more sleep, more food, I tired more quickly and it took more effort to focus."

Wedge gave him a tender, sympathetic smile. "Welcome to the world of mere mortals. Luke and I took turns sitting with him for the first few days while he was sedated, and then we visited him when he was awake. We were introduced to Tycho Celchu, this incarnation, on about day four. I liked this new Tycho very much. He was hot. Not as hot as you, but he was into guys and you were not."

"But I do like guys..." Wes cried. "I like both. I want all the flavors of cake."

"In the medical wing, I wondered why you and Luke had changed your hair color," Tycho muttered, still lost in the past. "I thought it was a team-building exercise I'd missed while I was in medical."

Smacking a hand to his forehead, Wedge's smile slipped, replaced by a withering glare at Wes. "Sithspawn. And now, the final piece falls into place. That could very well be what set you off, Tych. The psychopath shower scene tripped your Wes obsession into overdrive."

Their table tokens buzzed and when Wedge pulled it out, Tycho took it away from him and threw it against the wall. His own token quickly followed, as he grumbled, "Kriffing Sabacc tournament."

"Hey!" Wes snapped, appalled at the bad behavior. "Bad Tycho. Those belong to Mirax."

The intoxicated Colonel pouted, "He's going to say no making out, now."

Wedge stood, offering a hand up to each of the men, "Mirax has a surprise, remember."

Tycho stole a kiss from Wes before he accepted the hand. "This is not over."

"It's just beginning," Wes agreed, licking swollen lips. 

"We've wasted years because of misunderstandings and assumptions."

"Wes is going to let us make up for it. Right, Wes?" Wedge stepped into him and pulled the big man against him, holding tight.

"You aren't going to give me a choice."

"Nope."

"You don't need to worry about losing us like you did with Dack, Wes." Tycho pulled him into a hug when Wedge let him go. "We are very hard to kill."

Wes let the hug go on for a while. Tycho hugging him so fiercely was strange and new. "So, are we like dating?" 

Pale blue eyes met his, not madman eyes, just familiar eyes. "If today proved anything, we don't know you as well as we thought we did."

"Dates are a good idea. Especially for you and Tycho." It was Wedge's turn again for another crushing hug, and he added a kiss to Wes' cheek. "Time to go."

"Don't punch Face," Wes told them sternly.

Wedge muttered under his breath. "I hate when you are in charge. You take the fun out of everything."

"Can we demand an explanation?" Tycho asked, scowling.

"Ask nicely for an explanation, please."

"Spoilsport."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

The players heard the alert of the tokens and it was only a short time later the three Rogues emerged from room six. By all outward appearances they looked like themselves, but there was a suspicious redness around their eyes. 

As quickly as they had gathered, the group at the entrance to the ballroom dispersed in the direction of the gaming room. 

Face braced himself, and as expected, Wedge and Tycho drew to a halt before him. 

Wedge spoke first, "We have been ordered not to punch you or demand explanations." Each of the men hooked an arm through one of Face's and they half steered, half marched him in the direct of the first private room. 

As soon as the door slid closed at their backs, Tycho had him by the collar of his shirt. "Wes didn't say we couldn't throttle the life out of you."

"I'm sorry."

"Try harder."

Loran sighed. "I didn't want to do it. I feel terrible."

"Then, for the love of the Force, why did you take it upon yourself to meddle?"

The Captain brought his arms up protectively to cover his head, "Because Tyria said we had to, or Wes might lose the chance at happiness with you both."

"And just how would she know?" Tycho ground out.

Wedge groaned, clutching his aching head in his hands. "She saw us, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"What did she say?"

"Saw us?"

"I used to hate it when Luke would pull the mystical Jedi Force bantha dung on me," Wedge told him. "Of course, we'd do what he said. I'd look back on it later, and think I'd lost my damn mind. What did she say, Face? You can tell me. I've lost the urge to beat you to a bloody pulp."

Face nodded, violently. "Yes. This. BEST CASE SCENARIO, Wedge. When do WE ever get a BEST case?" His entire being pleaded with them to understand and forgive him.

The two men looked at each other, and Tycho rolled his eyes, tossing his hands in the air. Turning to glare at Face, he said, "One warning: butt out."

"Yes, sir."

Wedge had his own admonition to add, "Keep your lips off our Wes. We have a prior claim."

"Yes, sir."

"And Face... do us all a favor and book Sarkin more lesson time with Luke, so she can learn to do whatever she's actually supposed to do with the Force, maybe tap into the non-matchmaking side of the Force. I think meddling in people's love lives is how Sith are born." 

Face literally sagged with relief. "I'm so on that. First thing in the morning."

"We need to go or we are going to miss Mirax's surprise."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"May I have your attention, please," Mirax called to the die hard players who remained to witness the final round. "As I said when we started, a prize is being offered for the best dish and the prize is something very special. First things first, the winner of the best buffet dish contest was number eight. Who brought number eight?"

The breath froze solid in Wes' chest and his brain shrieked to a halt. No. No. This could not be happening. He only made the dish for Wedge. They weren't supposed to all kriffing vote for it. An elbow caught him in the back and he looked up to see Hobbie standing there, looking at him... expectantly. "No."

"Yes."

"No. No. No. I only made it for Wedge," he whined.

"Does anyone know who brought the dish marked number eight," Mirax demanded.

Before Hobbie could even open his filthy, rotten mouth to rat Wes out, another voice called, "Wes brought it."

"Wedge?!" Wes yelped. "What are you doing?!"

Face patted Wes on shoulder, "Good job, Wes. Stuff is amazing. You'll have to take us to the place where you bought it."

"Wes didn't buy it," Hobbie piped up. "Wes made it. Cooked it with his own two hands."

Wes gritted his teeth in a not smile, and whispered, "Revenge, Hobbs."

"Since I've sobered up some, I remembered you made my hair bright pink on Hoth. Bright, screaming pink. This is MY revenge." To Mirax, Hobbie said, "Wes wins the contest, but this is my least favorite of all the things he can cook. Everything else he makes is better."

Face eyed him speculatively and slung an arm over his shoulders. "Maybe this would be a good time to mention Wraith Rule #2."

"No secrets!" A chorus of voices called in response to him.

Face smirked at Janson's horrified expression, but it was Kell Tainer who spoke, "You are just full of secrets, Major. We doubted you were sneaky and secretive enough to be a true Wraith."

"You, of all people, Kell, should know better than that."

Tainer nodded, "I suspected. Our history was part of my confession session." He shuddered. 

"Took a whole bottle of Corellian whiskey to pry it out of him. too," Shalla confirmed. "You are every bit as much of a mess as the rest of us, big brother. And the fact that you can cook? Bonus!" 

"Fine. Fine. Okay, I admit it. I cooked the Rova, but it wasn't for any of you. It was a going away present for Wedge."

"Awwwwwww."

"So sweet."

"If that isn't true love, I don't know what is."

Corran's wife was grinning maniacally at him. "Well, Janson? Are you ready to know what your prize is?"

"Shoot."

Mirax made a blaster with her thumb and forefinger, took aim at him as she said, "You've won the wild card seat for the last round," and then she pretended to shoot him right between the eyes, complete with laser sounds. 

Face clutched his head and cried, "Ahhhhh."

"Sithspit," Tainer muttered under his breath.

"Sith spitty spit," Hobbie howled, hopping around from foot to foot. "I just gave him my wild card spot."

"Congratulations, Wes," Tyria hugged him and gave him a sisterly peck on the cheek. 

Wes put his hands up. "I give up. I surrender. Please, Tyria, turn it off. What's a few more siblings, anyway." A tear leaked from the corner of his eye.

"Aw, Wes. I promise the rest of the Wraith rules aren't nearly as hard as the first two," Tyria comforted him.

A glass of whiskey magically appeared in his hand and Wes looked up find Tycho at his side. "You've earned this."

"Thank you."

"Rough day for all of us."

"Can I go home, now? I'm tired of being a grown up."

"Hang in there just a little longer, and after the final round, Wedge will give you a ride."


	7. Mine Is Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mad Mirax. Face on his knees. Asyr get to the heart of a few things as only a Bothan can. Somebody wins the Sabacc tourney. Somebody takes home a much bigger prize. Things cool down. Things heat up. 
> 
> Warning for explicit sexy-times.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't ban you and the rest of your band of mischief makers from all future Sabacc tournaments?"

Face grimaced at the furious Corellian female. "We promise to behave from now on?"

"Not good enough," Mirax rumbled, ominously. "Explain why you interfered."

"The emotional wellbeing of a fellow Wraith and current member of Rogue Squadron."

"Hmph."

Face knew he was getting somewhere, the frequency was just a tad off. "The future happiness of three members of Rogue Squadron?"

"That does very little for my urge to punch you in your pretty face, Face."

Then, he had it. "The current happiness of General Wedge Antilles."Mirax's dark brows rose in surprise, and just as quickly the hard eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Explain."

"Everything we did was to ensure Celchu had time alone to talk out his feelings with Janson. I wasn't expecting you to put the table tokens back. As a result, Wedge walked into the middle of a necessary fire fight between the two Rogues. It was probably better this way, because it turns out Wedge is the catalyst. He managed to get the three of them out of fight or flight mode and into... I don't know. Some better mode. Maybe even relationship mode."

"I have a hard time believing Wedge has been seeing a Rogue. And Colonel Celchu?" 

Apparently, they've been involved since Hoth, and when he started trying to date a second Rogue, Wedge forgot they needed to disclose the relationship to the person they are pursuing."

"Men are such Idiots," Mirax spat, holding her head and moaning softly. "Why tonight?"

"Force vision."

"Corran? No, your Wraith, Tyria, right?"

"Yes." Face sank to his knees before her, dramatically. "Oh please, Mistress Mirax, Goddess of the Sabacc table, please forgive us and allow us a chance to redeem ourselves in your eyes."

"Get up, Loran. People are starting to stare. Did it work? Is this going to make Wedge happy?"The Wraith jerked his head in the direction of the Sabacc table, "Go and look. Judge for yourself."

"Your people are going to help with the clean-up tonight and next week they scrub my cargo holds. All of them. To my satisfaction."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm going to find and haul the nastiest cargo I can get my hands on first."

"We'll be there."

Mirax smiled to herself, shaking her head in exasperated amusement. It was a comfort to know her socially inept brother, she'd always seen Wedge as a sibling, was being looked out for by dozens of matchmaking busy bodies. There was no more fitting return on Wedge's investment in his pilots than for them to turn around and worry over his needs for once.

Maybe this transfer was the right thing for him. She'd been concerned for Wedge, and she could feel her husband's unease. Corran didn't handle change well, and she could just imagine what Wedge's closest comrades in arms where going through. Janson alone, Mirax knew, had been through the ringer tonight. 

The players in the final round were: Wedge, Wes, Tycho, Asyr, Ooryl, Pash Cracken, and Nawara Ven. 

They sat sizing each other up, preparing mentally, as Mirax circled the table counter clockwise until she could see Wedge's face. Oh, Veggies, she thought, her heart aching for him. His eyes were puffy and slightly reddened and she just knew he'd been crying. A glance at Tycho and Wes showed their eyes in the same post-tears state. 

Mirax sent a silent prayer to the Force. Please let them be happy. Don't those three deserve to be happy? And most especially her Veggies...

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"So, Wes, Ooryl has something to say to you," Asyr told him, then she smiled proudly at the thermal detonator she'd tossed and sat back to watch the fireworks. 

"I do not believe I like your idea of changing the wingmen, Wes."

"Whoa, hold up, Ooryl. It was not my idea. The hypothetical idea came from what Tyria thought I might do to the Wraiths if they were too comfortable with their wingmen and you're right. The idea is... flawed."

"How so?" Asyr asked, curiosity evident. 

"Well, for starters, it just plain won't work. If you get paired with Ooryl for long enough, you'll just get comfortable as a pair, again, and then you're back to square one. l'd use something else... I don't know, like having the pilots all draw from Matching suits of Sabacc cards to pair the Idiots, pair the Justices... Then, there will always be the possibility of..." 

Wedge looked up from his cards, his head tilted to the side as he asked, "Random Sabacc shifts of the wing pairs?" 

"Oh nerf nuts," Nawara gasped. 

Beside Wes, Tycho laughed out loud, eyes alight with mischief. "What a brilliant idea."

"No!" Wes commanded, firmly. "No. Hold that thought, you."

The table thought he meant to hold the wing pairs trading. Wes knew it was the kiss he was trying to forestall. A very public kiss the intoxicated Colonel might regret in the morning when the warm, fuzzy feeling of his brandy wore off. 

"It really is brilliant," Wedge breathed, agreed with him. "Why didn't I think of it years ago? Now, I'm sad not to be in charge, anymore, so I could at least try it."

Tycho flicked him a glance over his cards. "You could come back."

"My reasons for leaving are still as valid as they were yesterday. You can have the fun." Wedge looked at Wes. "Why were you discussing wingmen, anyway?"

Wes grinned. He caught Mirax's eye, and said in a sing-song, "Horn said something stupid." At her glare, he winked at her. "I asked what he liked best about the Rogues, and he said flying, which is fine, but then he said he and Ooryl are so perfectly in tune, they can read each other's minds. They are perfectly synched together."

"He didn't..." Nawara moaned, brain-tails swaying as he shook his head. The former XO of Rogue Squadron tsked. 

Wedge and Tycho let out matching sighs and followed them up with twin disappointed head shakes.

"Even Ooyrl knows one must not say such things where those who are superior to us in rank might overhear and decide Ooyrl needs to be made less comfortable with this favorite wingman friend Corran."

Mirax shrugged, "It really does sound like Corran was asking for it."

"Not my monkey-lizards," Wes held up his hands, and told her, "Not MY zoo."

"You know what I think is Interesting," Asyr commented, smiling mildly. "This is like the third time today I've heard Janson ordering a superior officer around. Does that mean he's the de-facto boss on no decor days?" 

Wes' head would have thunked painfully against the table's surface if Tycho's hand hadn't moved between flesh and polished wood. "It was the punch. I blame the punch," Wes muttered.

"Corran Horn isn't the only one who needs to be careful what he says around the Sabacc table. I'd hate for it to get out how much you love..." Her smile was wicked and predatory.

"NO! Stop. Please, Asyr. Don't say it."

The Bothan leaned forward in her seat, looked right into his chocolate brown eyes and said, "You're a Rogue, baby. We are YOUR monkey-lizards and this is very much YOUR zoo. Whether you choose to believe it or not." She ruffled his dark curls affectionately, smirking to herself, obviously pleased. "You keep running away from the responsibility of us, we're gonna chase you."

"Asyr," Tycho said, simply. "Peace."

She nodded, "As you wish, boss."

Pash Cracken, the only non-Rogue who managed to make it to the final round, turned to Wes, "So, Janson, where did you learn to cook like that?"

Parents, mostly, and some cooking classes back before I joined the Rebellion."

"Ever thought about opening a tap-caf, somewhere?"

"No." Wes took a sip of his whiskey.

"Can I come over for dinner?"

Wes eyed him, looked back at his cards, "Maybe. Would you be bringing Lomin-ale and attractive women?"

"Possibly."

"Oh good, Janson's back," Ven announced, cheerfully.

There was a collective sigh of relief from the spectators gathered to watch the final round. 

Wes pouted at them. "What?"

"You just aren't any fun when you're this sober."

"I know! The whole universe started spinning the other way around when I took the nasty blue stuff." He raised a finger, "I have an idea. Let's all pick on Hobbie, instead. He has Wraith worthy secrets. Hobbs has a beautiful singing voice. I found professional holo recordings of Derek singing before he joined the military." 

A hand came out of nowhere and slapped the back of his head. Hard. "He's pranking you," Hobbie told them. "Don't pay any attention to his idiotic ramblings."

"Can you sing?" Inyri asked him.

"Of course not."

"Wow. Klivian is almost as bad a liar as Wedge."

"Hey!" Wedge gasped, and then grumbled, "That hurts."

"What Shalla meant to say," Face interjected, "Is that the General and Major are not up to Wraith standards for prevaricating. We would be happy to offer you lessons."

Wes turned in his seat to shoot a horrified look at them, "No."

"Aw, come on," Elassar told him. "Think of the fun!"

He leveled a finger at the Wratihs. "No. Bad."

"We also want to be the monkey-lizards," Runt told Wes. "If we are not YOUR monkey-lizards, we do not have to obey when you tell us, 'No. Bad.'" He added, "The Rebel mind says we must teach all the Rogues to dress in costumes, give them acting and dissembling lessons..." 

Tycho sighed, carding fingers through his light brown hair as he stretched. "If you do that, I'm going to get them stolen from me by NRI."

Pash smiled at him. "Can I pick? You know... for my father?"

"No. Get your own. No poaching mine."

"See. We are his." Wes patted Tycho's arm, "Tycho is the zookeeper, now, and he is responsible for taking care of the monkey-lizards... just as soon as... you know... sobers up."

Celchu looked down at the chrono unit strapped to his wrist, "2358." He nodded once to himself, and then in front of everyone, Tycho leaned in and kissed Wes. Hard. Right square on the mouth. 

"You can't do that," Wes howled when he managed to get his lips free. Eyes wide and hands waving frantically, Janson added, "People can see you."

"Yes, we see you," Face confirmed. "Kissing."

The other man shrugged, unconcerned. "I still had two minutes. You needed a good kiss. I owed it to you for the wing pair shifting."

Wes was scooting his chair away from Tycho when hands grabbed him by the front of his vest and hauled him up. He flinched, naturally expecting a punch, and what he got instead was more lips. Wedge's lips. He had the vague impression of counting, lots of voices counting down, and when the countdown reached zero Wedge released him. 

"Look at how cute they are!" Inyri gasped. 

"Did you see this in your Jedi vision?"Shalla asked Tyria, under her breath.

Tyria shook her head, "No. Jedi visions are never like really good holo-porn."

"What did you just say?" Wedge asked them, with mock sternness. 

"Jedi visions aren't this sexy, Sir?"

"Better."

"Well, what I'm saying is... I've got a Pure Sabacc," Nawara announced. "Positive twenty-three. Read 'em and weep. I may not be able to best you in an X-Wing, but I can take you all out at the Sabacc table."

Wedge sighed, "I had twenty."

"I had twenty two..." Wes whimpered, groggy and crestfallen. "I was so close..." Before he could sink back into his chair, Wedge whispered, "Let's get you out of here, my friend. You've had a long, emotional day."

"Yes, please."

"The Major has had a rough night," Wedge addressed the crowd. "Please, give the man twelve hours to recover before planning more ops involving him."

In the darkened skimmer, Wes said, "Not sure this is the way to my 'partment..."

Wedge glanced over at him. "Didn't say we were going to your place."

"Where we goin', Wedge?"

"My place."

"Too exhausted for sex."

Wedge nodded, "Me, too."

When Wedge let them into his flat, he keyed only the dim entry light on. Taking Wes' hand in his, he tugged the exhausted pilot with him down the small hallway to his bedroom. Then, he got undressed down to his boxers and looked at Wes. "Wes, don't sleep in your clothes."

"'Kay." The other man pulled off said clothes and Wedge tugged him onto the bed. They settled in side by side and Wedge rolled over and spooned his body behind Wes'. "Hmm. Nice."

"Yes."

"Night."

"Sleep, Wes."

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Wedge woke to the feeling of warmth. The second sensation was one of being watched, and when he opened his eyes to look, he found caf colored eyes watching his face intently from the other end of his pillow. 

Teeth nipped Wes' lower lip, a nervous habit of Wes' he knew well. Wedge's attention lingered on those lips. He lifted his hand and traced the abused lip gently with the pad of his thumb. This was rewarded with the digit being sucked into a hot, wet mouth. "Morning," Wedge grinned, "Did you sleep?"

Wes released his thumb, letting it slip out of his mouth with a pop. "Some. You slept. You're a cuddler, you know that, Wedge?"

"I have been told a time or two," Wedge confirmed, amused.

"As much as I like spooning, I had to get some space or wind up in an embarrassing sticky mess. Not a desirable first impression."

Playing with a stray lock of hair curled against Wes' jaw, he marveled at the silkiness of the shiny strands. "I don't mind messes as long as we can make them together."

Janson was not having any of it, and he huffed, "We aren't eighteen, Wedge. There is only so much fun we can have before we need time to recover."

The Corellian smirked at him. "Are you sure you want to challenge me? I'd be happy to prove you wrong. " His fingers trailed along to feel the stubble on the other man's jaw. Wedge took Wes' hand and placed it briefly on the bulge in his boxers which had been quick to appear upon waking to find such an attractive guest in his bed. He liberated the tube of lubricating gel from under his pillow, where he'd stashed it when they laid down, and put it in the other's palm.

Dark eyes focused on the tube, and the corner of Janson's gorgeous mouth quirked with amusement. "Planned this, did you?"

"Not a plan, just hope," Wedge confessed. His hands craved exploring all the bare Janson skin he knew awaited him under the blankets. He made another confession, "I want to touch you."

Wes gave a little huff of breath, and then rolled onto his back, pushing the covers away, exposing himself in silent invitation. "So, touch." 

Wedge didn't need to be told twice. He was in motion as soon as permission was secured, settling over Wes on hands and knees. They stared into each other's eyes, and it took a moment for him to regain his focus. 

"Problem?" Janson sounded entirely too smug as he stretched like a sleepy tree-cat waking for the day.

"I have you under me and I don't even know where to start..."

The other man pulled him down and kissed him, long, slow and hot. Lips still pressed together, Wes told him, "If you get to touch me, I get to kiss you. Fair is fair."

Nodding agreement, Wedge managed to alternate between languid kisses and stroking his hands greedily over the warm, muscular chest and shoulders, then exploring ribs and arms and anywhere else he could reach to caress. 

There was no hurry, so he took his sweet time. There was no place Wedge wanted to be in that moment than exactly where he was, doing exactly what he as doing to Wes Janson. Finally, Wes was his. The possibilities were endless, and he assured himself they would get to all of them, eventually.

When his fingers ghosted over the dip of one hipbone, Wes reared up and shied away. "What?" Wedge frowned at him. 

"No tickling," Wes stated, emphatically shaking his head. His hands covered the vulnerable area at his lower side.

Chuckling to himself, Wedge raised his hands in mock surrender. "No tickling. Just tell me where you're ticklish, so I know where to avoid." 

Something in his expression, or maybe his tone, had Wes realizing his mistake, and he scooted further away. "Nuh uh." 

"I promise not to exploit your ticklish spots."

"Everyone knows Wedge lies badly," Wes stated. 

Affecting an air of hurt, Wedge pouted, "I don't feel like tickling you right now, anyway."

"What do you want to do to me, Wedge?"

Wedge sighed, "Everything. Every Kriffing thing."

"Pick one."

"How much time I need to take with you, to get you ready for sex?"

Wes raised an eyebrow at him, like he wasn't sure why Wedge was even asking such a ridiculous question. "I put toys inside me. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Do the toys feel good?"

The other man nodded, slowly. "They're okay."

"Only okay?"

Wes scooted across to where he'd lost the container of gel in their kissing and groping. "I get off just fine, but it's a poor substitute for what I really want. No matter how nice a toy feels... they aren't going to feel like having you inside me, Wedge." He put a little liquid into his palm and rubbed his hands together. Then, he advanced on Wedge until they were kneeling face to face on the bed. "I wish it was you, and it's not, so..." 

A hand insinuated itself down the waist of his boxers and Wedge couldn't contain his shuddering gasp as the cool, slick fingers touched his heated arousal for the first time. The blunt honesty of the confession made Wedge groan. "Wes..."

"Do you fantasize about me, too, when you touch yourself?"

Wedge blinked at him, shaking his head. "Wes fantasies are strictly forbidden. I have to work with you. Closely. If I allowed myself to roll down that slippery slope... I'd have gone stark raving mad years ago from imagining all the stuff I would do to you." Wedge let the confession slip out. "I channelled some of it into envy... rather than lust."

"Envy rather than lust?" Wes asked, doubtful."I blame genetics. Good genes like yours are just plain cheating." Wedge caressed a hand from the side of Wes' neck, over his bare shoulder and down his bicep. "You don't even have to work out to be muscular and hot. How manifestly unfair is that?" 

"If I say I love you right now are you going to reply, 'I know.'"

Shaking his head, the Corellian laid his forehead on Wes' shoulder, bringing their bodies together with Wes' hand still caressing his erection between them. "Please let me inside you," Wedge whispered, pleading.

Janson gasped, startled by Wedge's brazen request, and blew out a shaky breath. "Shavit, Wedge. Are you trying to make me come in my pants?""Rather have you come inside me," Wedge told him. "But seeing as how I'm lubed and you aren't... Me first?"

The response was instantaneous as Wedge's cock was released and Wes tugged his own boxers down his thighs and off, sighing when his erection was freed. He grabbed one of Wedge's other pillows from where it had been knocked to the floor and settled himself on his stomach on top of it. 

"Sithspit," Wedge groaned. "Look at you. You're absolutely gorgeous." The sight of Janson naked and offering himself would be burned in his brain forever. 

Wes moved his firm backside teasingly from side to side. "Flattery is pretty good, sex is better," he taunted.

Wedge crawled forward, pressing into the tight muscles, and silently marveling he could manage to enter at all. Wes was just so tight. And his buttocks were perfect firm globes right where Wedge's hands could caress and knead them. He pulled back out, just as slowly, and entered him again, getting further inside this time. "Love you so much, Wes, I can't think straight."

"Thinking is not required," Wes told him in between moans. "In fact, all thinking must stop." Wes pushed back the next time Wedge started to push inside him and took him deeply. "Mine. My Wedge."

"Your Wedge, yes, but that makes you my Wes." He kissed the other man's bare shoulder, rasping his stubbly cheek on the skin, and eliciting a groan. 

Their pace increased very gradually until Wedge found he couldn't help pounding his lover into the mattress, completely lost in their first time together and loving it. Wes' muscles clenched at him, a subtle sign he was getting real close to coming, and Wedge had to slow the thrusts to keep his own orgasm at bay. This slowing down brought a string of unintelligible gibberish from Wes, slowly resolving into the chant of, "Come, come, come..."

With Wes' encouragement, Wedge let himself go over, spending with a cry into the sweaty skin of Wes' neck. He tasted salt on his lips and groaned as the last bit of his ejaculate spilled into Wes and his weight settled onto the bigger Rogue.

"Oh, Force, I think I'm dead," Wes hissed, panting. He let Wedge stay, limp and panting, on top of him for a while, before rolling to the side to move Wedge off. "No, not dead. I'm still hard and by some miracle you didn't push me over when you came."

Their eyes locked and Wes smiled. "My turn, now, Antilles."

"Yes," Wedge agreed, wholeheartedly.

"Quick. Find the gel." It was located and when Wedge started to roll over to offer his backside to Janson, Wes' hands on his shoulders stopped him. "I need to see your face for our first time.""Your wish is my command," Wedge told him, only half teasing.

"Sithspit, you're so hot after you come," Wes confessed, cheeks flushing even redder than before. "You and Tycho must do it all the time."

Wedge grunted in surprise. "Not really. In fact, I can't remember when we did it recently. We had dinner and watched a vid last week, but we didn't make love."

"Why not?"

Wes'' fingers teased him and made quick work of getting him ready. "We aren't kids. As you so cruelly pointed out. And we are way past the daily sex stage in our relationship."

"Poor Tycho, he really is an old boot," Wes whispered, shaking his head in mock disapproval. 

"If you want to try on my sexy Alderaanian boot, feel free." Wedge kissed him, hungrily. "He wants to be with you desperately." 

In response, Wes gave a little annoyed cry. "What is it, Wes?"

Wes kissed him, with tongue, plenty of playful tongues. "Face is right about everything. I hate that. It makes me crazy."

"You know what makes me crazy?" Wedge asked. "You."

Wes' eyebrows rose. "Oh really?" He move into the vee between Wedge's thighs. "I haven't even begun to drive you crazy, yet, General." He leaned down to kiss Wedge's mouth and eased the blunt head of him into Wedge, surprised when most of him entered on the first thrust. "Uhn. Could you be any hotter inside?" He didn't wait for an answer, just started moving, in and out with balls deep movements which soon found a perfect rhythm. 

Wedge let Wes have his way with him, for what seemed like glorious hours, and he moaned when his ankles were lifted up onto Wes' shoulders and Wes' cock happily twitched in reply. "I don't wanna stop," Wes hissed. "Not gonna last with you so kriffing tight and hot."

"Do you think I can really make you orgasm just with what I say?"

"Dunno..." Wes moaned.

Wedge thought of something. "Can I wake up tomorrow morning to the sight of Tycho fucking you into my mattress?" It worked. Wes gave a keening wail and filled Wedge with his come.

"Oh, I'm so going to get back at you for that," Wes vowed, scowling.

Wedge grinned. "Looking forward to it."

Wes collapsed beside him and was asleep in minutes. Wedge went into the refresher and retrieved a warm, damp towel and cleaned up the traces of their lovemaking, then he followed Wes back into sleep.

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Wedge noticed Tycho frozen with his caf mug halfway to his mouth. He followed the direction of the other man's gaze and found Wes leaning casually against the wall leading into the bedroom. Clad in just a pair of Wedge's borrowed sleep pants, his dark hair a tousled mass of damp curls, barefoot and bare chested, Wes could have walked straight out of an adult rated holo-vid. 

"Wah?" Wes grumbled. "Why ya looking at me wi' yer mouths open?" He padded to the table and shouldered his way between them, gently, to get at the bakery box Tycho placed on the table when he came in. Stuffing a piece of sweet roll into his mouth, Janson's other hand fumbled for the last mug of caf. "I just shower'd. You've seen me showered plenty of times."

There was a sluggish delay while Wedge's brain shut down and re-initialized, eventually allowing speech to return. "You look good in my clothes."

"Too good," the Alderaanian Rogue agreed. "It's bad for him to look so good wearing your pants." Tycho waved his pastry at Wes. "Too tight."

"Yeah. They don't do anything to conceal..." Wedge sighed, waving a hand at Wes' belly and lower. "Makes me want to take them off."

"Off," Tycho echoed, nodding emphatically.

"Nuh uh," Wes countered, still chewing. "No change of clothes here. Not gonna walk around naked. Deal with it."

"Don't have to walk anywhere," Wedge told him. "Except back into the bedroom."

Tycho's face broke into a playful grin. "I like this plan. This is a good plan."

Wes took two giant steps backward, hands up to fend them off. "I have a better plan. Why don't you tell me what scheme you cooked up with the Wraiths last night that involves both Rogue and Wraith pilots and the simulators."

"Ugh. Buzzkill," the Colonel groaned, turning away and pouring himself more caf.

Wes studied him when Tycho turned back to face them, then turned the searching gaze on Wedge. "Guilty look. Worried look. Sithspit. I'm so screwed." He put a naked arm around Tycho's shoulders. "Why don't we take our caf to the couch? At the very least, I can be comfortable when you drop this hammer on me."

Once they were seated, Wes looked at the men expectantly, "Well?"

"We're going to run a group scenario this afternoon."

"And just why am I going to hate it?"

Wedge winced. "Gravan Seven."There was a slow blink of dark eyes and Wes' brows drew down in puzzlement. "Rogues already did it."

"Yes, they did."

"Wraiths already did it. Well, except Donos and me."

"Donos has done it," Wedge confessed, glumly.

"Nope. We didn't make him."

Tycho's lips twisted in distaste as he said, "The Wraiths took it upon themselves to force him to make the run in the middle of the night without your knowledge."

"Oh? OH." His eyes went wide. "Those sneaky bastards." He noted pain in the other's expression, but didn't understand the source of it. "You really aren't happy about that. Why?"

"They wanted to help, but I'm never a fan of the ends justifying the means, Wes. And using simulations to fuck with a damaged pilot's mind is a tactic Iceheart used, and to great advantage." He took a shuddering breath. "I would know. That's is how she tried to break me, and then Corran. Drugs, lack of food and sleep, physical beatings, and then twisted sims to confuse the hell out of the pilots and reward them if they are tricked into firing on their own people."

"No!" Wes interjected. "No kriffing way."

"It's the truth, but the evil hag never could get me to fire on another Rogue. I was less than useless to her." He took Wes' hand in both of his. "I wouldn't ask you to do the Graven Seven run if I didn't have confirmation from both Klivian and Donos that it helped them face their loss of the Talons and heal from it."

"You don't have to do it alone," Wedge told Janson, taking his other hand. "I didn't do the Gravan run, and I probably should have. Donos volunteered to do it over again, for you. I figure once word gets out there are going to be more pilots than we have pods."

Eyes burning, Wes blinked away tears. "At times like this, I get reminded of how much I don't deserve friends like you."

"Not true."  
Wes impatiently wiped away a tear, "I'm a hypocritical bantha butt."

"What do you mean?"He looked at his lap and whimpered unhappily. "Sarkin was absolutely right about me. I put a wall up to keep them out, to keep all of them out of my heart. A part of me looked at them and felt superior, because I never washed out." Shaking his head, Wes looked up at Wedge. "I have no right to feel smug or superior about anything when I made screw ups just a bad, and some worse, even."

Tycho patted his hand. "Everyone screws up. You know that."

The reassurance did nothing to placate Wes, if anything Tycho made it worse. "If I'd had a squadron commander who was not as tolerant as Wedge here, I wouldn't have made it to Endor before my backside was bouncing down the permacrete from the force of a boot on my arse." 

Wes made the decision to bare the darkest part of his soul to the two people in the world whose opinions really meant something to him. What was one more painful humiliating confession this week? He'd been spilling his guts since the day Wedge announced he was leaving. "I've been thinking maybe you shouldn't have let me come back to the Rogues."

Wedge was obviously taken aback by his statement. "I don't follow, Wes. Explain it to me. I'm not reading you."

"When you re-formed Rogue Squadron, they gave you the best of the best. All the best pilots the New Republic had to give, and all with spotless records." Wes sagged. "You shouldn't have someone like me. I don't want to be the guy in this squad held up as the example of what NOT to do and how NOT to be."

Tycho studied him, arms crossing. "Is that how you see yourself?"

"Yes."

"Because that is not how I see you, Wes," Tycho told him flat out. 

"Not how WE see you," Wedge added, firmly. 

Wes leaned over until his face rested against Wedge's chest. HIs eyes drifted shut and he just let himself feel the warm, solid presence emanating from the man he'd come to love over many years of shared adversity. Wedge swallowed caf, likely gone cold by now, and winced. "Do you think we brought you back for sentimental reasons?"

"Because you love me. You wanted me around."

"I do love you, Wes. But you are dead wrong on why you are in the Rogues. It would take hours and a large hammer to straighten you out. Suffice to say, I brought you back because your experience makes you an asset to our team. The experiment of the Wraiths bore that out. You have a lot to give."

Tycho nodded, "I concur."

"I want so much for them to like me. Too much."

"They do like you, Wes," Wedge told him, not trying to keep his exasperation in check. 

Tycho opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Searching for the correct thing to say. A look passed between the two CO's. "Any new pilot joining up has to earn the respect of his fellows."

Wedge looked at Wes, sending a question with his eyes. "No, nobody has been disrespectful. It's more just my internal dialogue. My insecurity."

Wedge sighed, "You are entitled to your feelings, Wes. But, I think you need to tune your internal dialogue to a different frequency. And you are forgetting that we have Derek and another screwed up Wraith in Donos."

"Hobbie is better at behaving himself. And it wasn't Myn's fault he got all screwed up. That was my fault. Our fault."

Tycho raised an eyebrow. "Klivian behaving is debatable. He was my XO while you were gone, after all."

Crossing his arms, Wedge frowned, "You're willing to give those two leniency, and yet you won't give any to yourself.... You are being much too hard on yourself, my friend."

"I'll do the sim if you think I need it."

Tycho pulled a face. "I'd never force you."

"You wouldn't ask if it wasn't important," Wes stated.

"As long as you understand it's your choice. You can back out at any point."

Janson frowned, "We do it. I have spare clothes in my locker on base, but someone might notice if I walk in wearing the clothes I had on from last night." 

"I think the kissing probably clued them in you weren't going home last night," Tycho smirked.

"Speaking of clothes... For the love of the Force, Wes, could you put something else on. You're hurting my brain." Wedge pushed Wes up and away him into an upright position.

They watched his backside as he walked way, and he knew it, because he added some extra roll to his hips.

When Wes was out of earshot, Tycho turned to Wedge, "Is that how he looks like after sex?"

Wedge nodded, emphatically, "That is post sex Wes."

"We're doomed. You do realize, don't you?"

"Yes." 

"Just so we are on the same page."

"What was all that, Tych? Wes has never been one to doubt himself. It's like he doesn't see the good he's done."

"I'm trying to decide if I need to slap some sense into him or hug him for an hour."

Wedge blew out a breath. "How much appreciation do we show pilot trainers, really? Do they know how much they are worth to us?"

"You suggesting we throw them a party?"

"No. Well, not just a party, but a party would probably help." Wedge crossed his arms. "I need to make a call to Admiral Ackbar." 

"Now?"

"Tomorrow will be soon enough, I guess."

"Do I get to know?"

"No. You get to participate."

"Thanks, I think."


	8. Metaphorical Bones And Actual Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone supports Wes in his hour of need. Then, they take him on a trip to fix a few of his other needs.
> 
> Warning for graphic sex.

"I stopped by your place and brought you a few things," Hobbie whispered, handing Wes a duffle bag as he entered the pilot changing room. "Kinda figured you wouldn't make it home last night... or this morning." 

Wes grinned at his best friend, and hefted the bag. "Thanks, Hobbs. Are we... you know?"

Hobbie's hand pressed to Wes' forehead, like a parent would for s sick child. "Not feverish, so just stupid then. WE are fine. WE will always be fine. WE are family, and that means you are stuck with me forever, 'Son.."

"I did dye your hair pink back on Hoth," Janson confessed, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "And it really wasn't a good look for you."

"Oh, that. You will pay for my hair, of course. Best part is... I don't have to do anything. I'm going sit back and enjoy the show when Wedge and Luke destroy you. You're going to get your backside handed to you by the combined pranking power of a General and a Jedi. I bet Force pranks are fearsome."

Wes changed his clothes and donned his flight suit, stuffing the dirty clothes into the duffle. The banter didn't really distract Wes from the reason they were on base today. "Tell me about your Gravan Seven sim. Was it bad?"

Hobbs looked at him, his usual mournful expression gone even more so. He bit his lower lip and Wes had his answer. Hobbie only gnawed his lip when he didn't want to tell Wes bad news. "It answered my questions."

"I'm going to do it. Tycho asked me to. He and Wedge are sure it will help."

This brought Hobbie to a stop. "Do you think it was our fault?"

"I don't know. What else it could've been? It was just an ambush. The Talons weren't as good as Corsair and Gauntlet. Maybe we should have quit while we were ahead..."

Klivian put his hands out in front of him, between him and Wes. "My right hand wants to punch you in the gut and my left hand wants to slap you silly. You should walk away, my brother, before one of the hands wins the debate."

Wes walked away with a muttered, "Sorry."

The Pilot's lounge was packed with nearly two dozen orange and white clad bodies. Wes admired them a full minute from the doorway, deeply humbled by the realization they were all here for him. Every one of them was willingly giving up their day off to support him in his time of need. Not wanting to break down and show the intense emotions he was feeling, Wes sauntered over to a couch which held a group of his favorite pilots chatting away happily. There was zero room left for him.

Shaking his head, Janson told them, "Guys, don't you know we're doing this all wrong."

"What are we doing wrong, Major?" Gavin asked him.

"By definition, days off are days we are supposed to be off, away from this place, sleeping off hangovers and seeing new faces we don't see every other day of the week." He made an expansive gesture with his arms. "There is a whole planet sized city full of seedy bars and questionable entertainment establishments for us to explore on the other side of that viewport." He waved a hand at the view. "And yet here we sit." 

At his words, he settled himself lengthwise across them, booted feet on one arm rest and his dark head on his folded arms in Gavin's lap.

This earned him an oof from the youngest Rogue. "You're heavier than you look."

"You're hogging my couch, so you get to suffer." Once he was settled, Wes noticed Face and Tyria had come over and he asked, "So why do you think I need to do this, Loran? And why did you do that to Myn?"

Face grimaced, and Tyria laid a sympathetic hand on the Captain's arm. "Do you remember what Ton said the night we made Myn run the Gravan Seven sim?"

"No," Face admitted, looking surprised something Ton Phannan had said slipped from his memory. "Remind me."

"When a broken bone doesn't get set, it heals all wrong and crooked. The only way to fix it at that point is to re-break the bone and set it properly. Then, it will heal correctly and the person isn't crippled." She offered Wes a weak smile. 

"Just so I get this straight, you're here to break my metaphorical bones in order to reset them, so I don't feel guilty my skills a trainer failed the Talons in their hour of need and my pilots died." 

"Well, yes..."

Inyri, one of the unlucky pilots making up Wes' current resting place, was just getting ready to start tickling Wes out of his uncharacteristically maudlin state when Wedge and Tycho strode in. They surveyed the sea of orange and Wedge must have noticed Wes and his couch full of trapped pilots. 

In a booming voice, the General snapped, "Attention!"

All the assembled pilots stood to attention, including the group on the couch. Janson was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor at Wedge's feet. "Attention?" Wedge repeated, for his friend's benefit.

Wes winced as he righted himself and got to his feet, managing to be mostly upright, if a bit bruised, and sketching a small salute. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

Over his shoulder, Tycho said, "Did you ever get the inexplicable urge to shoot him when he calls you 'sir'?"

"Sounds condescending doesn't it." A small protest noise escaped Wes before he could stop it. "Oh, at ease already Wes. We aren't seriously picking on you." He gave Tycho helpless shrug. "Maybe try having him address you by something else... Colonel? Boss?"

Tycho met Wes' look of consternation. "Are you up for this?"

"Sure thing, boss."

This only made Tycho flinch ever so slightly. "Marginally better." He put a warm hand on Wes' shoulder. "How do you want this? Do you want all the top pilots or pilots who've never done the scenario before?"

"Odds are better on the best twelve pilots, meaning Rogue Squadron," Hobbie informed them. "Though the pool is larger you will hand pick from all available pilots."

Wes raised an eyebrow. "Who hasn't done it? Show of hands?" The hands that went up included Wedge, Elassar and himself plus two others who were new to Wraith Squadron. "Might as well not waste sim time. We five, plus the Colonel, Ooryl and Corran, because they are so in synch..." 

"Don't even think about leaving Donos and me out of this to spare our delicate sensibilities," Hobbie told him, eyes flashing dangerously.

Myn nodded, "Because we are all in on standing with you on this."

"Fine. Myn, Hobbie, and our horny Hoth Protocol couple... Asyr and Gavin."

Wes looked at the faces of Wraiths and Rogues. To the pilots he didn't select, he said, "I'd fly to my death for any one of you, I hope you know that."

"We know," Face assured him. "And to show we have no hard feelings for you picking the Rogue pilots over us, we are taking you to our favorite tapcaf and the best seedy dancing establishments in Coruscant's underbelly just as soon as we are done here."

"Oh, good." Wes nodded, emphatically. "Let's do this."

"I'm running the control room," Face told him cheerfully. 

The Wraiths' let out a collective groan, and Face looked at them, "What?" There were some odd chuckles and a muttered, "Nevermind," from Piggy.

Wes donned his helmet, which Wedge handed him. He immediately took the thing back off and looked inside it, checking for dye or glitter or something. Wedge's knowing smirk told him the General had considered it. "Thank you for restraining yourself, Wedge."

"Temporary reprieve. I'm waiting for Luke to get back on planet."

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. Now, quit stalling and let's get on with this."

Wes checked his monitor and saw the initial seconds of the attack had taken out five fighters of their dozen. He scrambled to avoid the blasts to either side of him. His astromech was shrieking in sheer terror and he was only a seconds away from joining in. 

Another burning X-wing shot past, to his left, and as it exploded it rained burning debris all over him. His shield dropped another notch and he cursed. The comm was full of noise, some helpful, but most was pleas for assistance and the final cries of the other pliots as they died. He threw every trick he had at the simulation, every scrap of luck and skill. Nothing worked. There were just too many of them and he wasn't in a position to get free of the kill zone. The simulator mimicked a momentary loss of power to his inertial compensators and Wes' helmet connected with something, dazing him. The blurry viewscreen showed of his X-wing starting to spin and he gripped controls harder to try to steady himself. As he spared a glance to to see who was left, something slammed into his X-wing from behind. 

When the inside of the cockpit went dark, indicating his ship had been destroyed near the end of the Gravan scenario, one of the final three of the twelve, Wes let out a string of curses in several languages. 

"That last curse earns bonus points," Face chided in his earpiece. "I didn't know you could call someone an illegitimate whore's son in Huttese."

"I can curse in many, many languages. It's a hobby. Some people collect shot glasses. I collect inappropriate and offensive language."

"Anything else you collect, Janson?" Shalla asked. 

"Why? What have you heard, Lieutenant?"

Tyria's voice came over the headset, obviously someone had given everyone headsets, so they could follow along. "We haven't heard anything about a collection."

Wes thought about it. "Buy me a few Lomin ales and ask me about my toy collection."

"How did I know Janson was going to have a toy collection? I mean he's a kid living in a grown man's body."

"Not those kind of toys, Nelprin. Better. Grown-up toys."

"Did big brother just admit he's seriously kinky on an open frequency?" Tyria asked, scandalized.

"Affirmative," Wedge confirmed.

A chorus of hoots, hollers, and cat-calls followed as Wes exited the simulator. 

Hobbie was waiting for him, sweaty and frowning and searching his face, and Wes gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, then pulled his best friend and partner in crime into a hug. "I'm sorry, Hobbs. Will you forgive me?" 

"Was there anything we could possibly have added to our training that would have made one bit of difference in the ambush?"

Wes shook his head, dejectedly. "No, not a kriffing thing."

"Do you still doubt the combined power of team Klivison?"

"No, never again."

"Do you think we shouldn't have formed the Talons?"

A surprised hiss from Janson's right let him know Donos was within earshot of Hobbie's last comment. 

Wes' eyes welled with burning tears, and he brushed them away impatiently. "No. The Talons were my favorite," Wes confessed, sinking down onto a padded bench gratefully when his legs started to get shaky. "I was so proud of them. They had so much further to go to become good pilots. They worked twice as hard. They knew it, too, and never complained."

"Oh, yes, they did," Donos assured him. "You were just fortunate and didn't have to listen to it."

Wes looked up at their lone Talon survivor, slightly awed. "How did you survive?"

Without missing a beat, Donos told him, "I had very good teachers."

Wes nodded, considering. "Next time you see them, buy those guys a drink."

"I would be happy to buy YOUR first drink tonight, sir," Donos agreed, as he shook his head at Wes. "I meant YOU and Major Klivian, of course." At the look he must have seen on Wes' face, Myn pulled Wes up and into a back-slapping hug. "Now, while you're all sentimental and confessing things, admit the Talons were a cake walk compared to the Wraiths."

"No contest," Wes affirmed. He pulled back and mussed Myn's sweaty hair. "Thank you for not dying."

"Thank you, for teaching me how not to die," Donos replied. "And then later for also teaching me how to live. I wouldn't have Kierney, if not for your little talk about my being a walking dead man."

"Look at him, Hobbs. We saved one Talon from that clusterfuck ambush. I mean he's a Corellian, so it's kind of a loss, but he still flies and shoots things and blows things up. He's even thinking of reproducing for the future of the New Republic and Starfighter Command." Donos mock glared at him. Wes hugged Donos, again, the other pilot's clenched fists still trapped between their bodies, and this time he said, "Mine. Mine. Mine. Very glad to still have you, Myn."

"Now, I'm torn between punching him and sobbing on his shoulder."

"That touching display reminds me. There will be an all squadron briefing tomorrow afternoon in the main lecture hall at 1500 hours," Wedge announced.

"Can we please go somewhere and drink, now?" Hobbie asked. "That sucked just as bad the second time."

Asyr stopped in front of the group of Wraiths. "Are you thinking of taking Wes to Darkmatter Alley?"

"You've been to Darkmatter?" Kell breathed.

"Of course. More than once." At their obvious surprise, the Bothan patted Gavin on the arm. "It's a part of Gavin's Coruscant education. We always take him to the best bars we can find on every new planet."

Face looked at the young pilot and grinned, "Where did you hear about Darkmatter?"

"Mirax took us there after we liberated Coruscant."

Wes looked at the Rogues and Wraiths. "It's a club. I've heard of it."

"He hasn't been there," Piggy grunted. 'This will be fun."

"Yay. This is going to be stellar."

"Wes and Hobbie didn't make it on world for a while after the liberation, remember? We haven't gone slumming as a squad since Wes and Myn joined up with the Rogues." 

Rhysati smirked. "The Colonel told me the Major thinks he's a bad influence on us. A trip to Darkmatter should fix his mistaken impression."

The Rogues all stopped and looked at Wes as if she'd just announced he was leaving the Rogues to become a Sith Lord. Corran came to stand in front of Wes and shook his head. "Us? You think you're a bad influence on us?" With that, he burst into fits of booming laughter. "That's just too rich."

"What's so funny?"

"Wes, sweet Wes. What are we going to do with you?" Rhysati asked.

Asyr gave him a good natured punch on the shoulder. "We need to show up at his place some evening and demand to inspect his toy collection."

"Ooh, fun."

"No."

"Everyone please go and change, so we can go," Tyria pleaded.

"The General and Colonel have to come, too, don't they?" Elassar asked.

Every eye turned to look at the past and present Rogue COs'. 

Wedge shrugged, "If you want us..."

"Someone definitely wants you."

"Which one of you reprobates said that?" Tycho grunted.

"Quick. Scatter."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"I vote we ditch them and take Wes back to my place," Wedge grumbled loudly enough to be heard over the obnoxiously loud music of the third packed entertainment venue.

Tycho eyed the mass of wildly gyrating pilots on the club's dance floor. "They'd notice." 

"So?" Wes added. "They're all intoxicated, probably won't remember tonight, in the morning."

"Are you not intoxicated?" Tycho asked. "Because I can get you another drink, if it would help. Maybe one of those candy flavored things giggly girls drink?"

Wes glared at him, but it lacked any real heat. "Keep it up, Celchu, and I'm not going to use this..." Wes pulled a red disc out of his vest pocket, it was two centimeters in diameter and had the word 'Darkmatter' stamped on the face.

At the sight of the credit chit, Tycho's mood seem to improve dramatically. "Where did you get that?" He asked with a mischievous grin.

"Runt gave it to me," Wes told the two men. "Right before he explained what the chits are used for."

Wedge took the disc from him and examined it. "What's it used for?"

"Privacy booths." Wedge's face went from surprise to shock to... heat, and parts of Wes approved. "Apparently, the place is full of them in various sizes and themes. They charge by the quarter hour." When Wedge's face spread in a sly grin, Wes nodded, "Some are only big enough for two people to stand in. And other's have special equipment or themes."

"Beds?

Wes shrugged, "I would assume so?"

"Yes," Tycho told them. 

They both turned to look at him. "And you would know from experience?"

The Alderaanian nodded, smiling at them. "Yes."

"They say you should always watch those quiet ones," Wes quipped, still focused on Tycho. "I foresee a problem. One chit and two of you." Wes exchanged a look with Wedge. "We're gonna need more of these, a bunch more."

"Do you have any credit chits on you?" Wedge asked Tycho.

Tycho shook his head. "Nope. Don't need them."

"Why not?"

"Because I have this..." From his vest pocket, Tycho produced a gold and black striped swipe card. The same logo as the chits was stamped on the swipe. 

A sweaty Face appeared at the side of their booth. "Where did you get a VIP swipe?" Loran gasped, sounding thoroughly impressed, and maybe a little jealous, too.

"I have my sources," Celchu stated, and gave Face a testy look. "They wish to remain anonymous."

"What does a VIP swipe do?"Face opened his mouth to speak, and shut it again at a warning look from the Colonel. "You'll find out. I'm sure. I can run interference for you with the horde, when you want to vanish..."

"Appreciated, but not necessary," Tycho told him. "They are doing this for Wes."

"I'm going to round up the troops. I think everyone is ready for Darkmatter." He looked at them, studying the trio. "You three need another drink. I'll be right back."

Wes grunted at Face's retreating back. "I don't need more drinks. I want to remember this."

A hand laced fingers with his under the table and Wes couldn't help but feel... content. 

"We aren't going to let you forget," Wedge promised him. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

Competition was one of the ingrained, driving motivations of a good fighter pilot and Darkmatter Alley was a fantasy wonderland for those who needed prove themselves best at everything. From the moment they walked in, bright flashing signs advertised games of chance and skill, booths for food and drink, areas for dancing or watching others dance, both live and holo-recorded. 

The first thing to catch Wes' attention was a series of shooting galleries for various simulated weapons. A fierce smile formed on his face, and he turned to look around for Donos. "How accurate do those things get?"

"The weapons sims are fairly good. Stay away from the TIE and X-Wing sims on the second floor, though. Those are a waste of chits, unless you want to use it as a free spot for making out. Eww. Never mind, forget I said that. The privacy booths are sanitized between customers. Use those, instead."

Wes looked around, trying to locate one of the 'privacy' booths Donos was talking about. "Where?" 

"Red, curtained doors along the walls are standard red chit booths. There are black and gold doors for VIP swipes, and the whole third floor is only accessed with VIP swipe card access. Don't ask, I haven't been up there. I wouldn't want to, not without my wife."

Nodding, Wes made his way to the first shooting gallery. Small hand blasters were something Janson was very comfortable with. No sooner had he sat down on the stool, others from their party joined him. Donos paid for the five players with five black chits. "Black chits?"

From his other side, Tycho explained, "Vending machines sell both red and black chits. Look for the Darkmatter logo in red. Black chits are for the skill games and simulator booths and everything not related to adult pursuits. The pod racing sims are very popular with our crowd. They also just added electronic Sabacc and dice games on the second floor."

Janson was mildly surprised Tycho kept up on the targets with he and Donos until the very last few seconds, then Myn caught a lucky tag at the buzzer and pulled ahead of Wes by one. "Again!" Wes called, then realized he couldn't pay. 

Wedge vacated the chair on the end, and let Piggy take his place. He leaned his head down in between Wes and Tycho, and said, "I'll just go visit the vending machine and get some tokens."

"Any chance you have..." Wes raised an eyebrow at him. 

Wedge smirked. "I don't, but something tells me it won't be a problem here. Did you happen to look at the prizes in some of the skill games?"

"No."

"He was too interested in which guns to shoot first."

"Too true."

Wedge brushed his lips just above Wes' ear and whispered, "Look at the prizes before you move to the next shooting gallery. I promise you will be pleasantly surprised."

It was Piggy who shelled out the chits for the next round and Wes managed to win this time, letting out a whoop of triumph. He turned to Piggy and said, "Sorry."

"Not a problem, Major. I'll get you in the rocket propelled grenade booth."

"They have RPG simulators?" Wes breathed, instantly in love with the place. 

Tycho looked around and then gave up with a shrug and pulled the VIP swipe from his pocket, eliciting a crackling hiss from the Gamorean Wraith which they knew to be the voice-box translation a chuckle. He handed the swipe to the booth attendant and said, "Two rounds for everyone, please."

"Yes, sir," the attractive female attendant responded, looking him over appreciatively. 

Tycho patted Wes' hand where it lay on the counter beside his blaster, and the attendant's eyes caught the movement and fell. "Sorry," Tycho told the disappointed young woman. 

To the Colonel, she mouthed, "Adorable."

"More shooting, less flirting..." Wes grumped at him, then he eyed the attendant. "Mine."

The girl blew him a kiss and winked. "Oh, pretty boy, you just keep thinking that."

The targeting sim began and Myn and Tycho tied for first place. Wes got them all in the second round and he was ready to move on as Wedge reappeared. They divided up a stack of black chits and Wedge slipped him a single red when they didn't think Tycho was looking. 

Wedge took his arm and led Wes to one of the skill cylinders, a metal claw lowered to pick up little bottles of lubricant and small packages of protective sheaths. The harder to reach prizes were some sort of three pronged curling things made of brightly colored synth-flesh like some of his toys at home. "What's that?"

"Never seen a toy like that?" Tycho asked, smirking playfully.

"Nope. I don't even know what it would be used for..." Wes frowned at it. "Some alien?"

Rhysati had seen his interest and stopped beside him in time to hear his comment and she giggled, "No silly. Well, probably not. You are thinking of solo toys. Those are partner toys. Specifically, girl toys. Two for the girl and the long part is for either another girl, or a very trusting guy."

"No way!"

"Oh, yes. I've been trying to win one for my last two visits, but I have no skill with those awful claw things. I am better at the magnet catch games."

"And Nawara would probably kill anyone who helps her get one," Hobbie warned him. 

This was the exact wrong thing to say to Wes, at that moment, as he was spurred to step up to the machine and inserted his credit disc. "How can I refuse a plea for help from a fellow Rogue?" He motioned for Rhysati to stand in front of him and he guided her hands. "Ven can't shoot me, if you win it. I'm just helping your... aim. Maybe we should practice with an easier target." Together, they manipulated the hand controls and scooped up a lube and some prophylactics, before settling down to get the main prize. "Any particular color?"

"Red, of course."

Wes nodded, "Red it is, my Lady." It took two more tokens, but the toy dropped into the collection chute to the cheers of a large number of enthusiastic pilots. 

"Yeah," Hobbie told him, shaking his head sadly, "You are not going to be Nawara's favorite person. He might decide to kill you."

Inyri added, "You might want to go to another shooting gallery and practice with a bigger blaster."

"Great idea!" Wes laughed all the way to the sniper rifle gallery. After Donos kicked him to the curb a few times, Wes was ready for a new challenge. The RPG booth was great fun and Piggy was indeed on fire with those sims. "Pod racing next?"

Tycho and Wedge looked at each other, and Wedge shrugged, "Your call. You're lead tonight."

It just so happened a red curtained door sat maybe five meters from the start of the pod racing simulator section, and it gave Wes an amazing idea. He moved the curtain as he passed and peered inside, curiosity overwhelming. It reminded him of a standing up version of the cozy coffin from Hoth base, and he told Wedge as much. No bed or furniture save a padded kneeling bench in the center of the three meter square floor space. "They clean these things, right, because ick if they don't."

Tycho pointed out the strip of colored lights on the wall outside. "Red is in use, yellow is sanitizing cycle and green is go." There was a touchpad with a slot beside it for red chits. 

Wes reached into his pocket and pulled out the red chit. He looked around to see who was still with them and was more than a little relieved they'd lost a large part of their fellows while he was in the RPG gallery. He glared at the other's, "We need grown up alone time. Shoo." He told them.

There were smirks, and a few snickers, but the group dispersed. 

He turned to Wedge and Tycho. "I'm in charge, you say?"

"Yes, sir," Tycho confirmed.

"Good." Wes placed the red chit in the slot and set the timer for max time of 15 minutes. Then, he pulled the goodies from the toy crane from his pocket and put them in Wedge's hand, steering him into the booth. Turning back to Tycho, he said, "Poor old boot." Then, he gave the Colonel a peck on the lips and whispered, "Later."

"Yes."

Wes made like he was going to follow Wedge into the little room, but at the last minute he grabbed Celchu by the front of his vest and turned them, reversing their positions and placing Tycho's back in the doorway, then with a gentle push, Tycho was stepping back into the small room and looking shocked as Wes hit the big red button to close the doors on them. Effectively trapping the old boots alone together in the sex booth for the next fifteen minutes. 

With a smile of pure delight and a satisfied nod, he turned to find a few of the Rogues were in line for the next run on the pod racer sim and he joined them. 

"You locked them in the booth on your one chit?" Hobbie chuckled. "I don't think that is what either of them had in mind."

"Exactly why I did it." 

"Devious," Piggy grunted. 

"I can't have them acting like a boring old married couple, can I?"

Hobbie winced, "Ugh. NO!"

"They're a married couple?" Inyri gaped at him, stunned. 

"No, or mostly. A boring, almost married couple."

"How did they hide that from us?"

Wes rolled his eyes at her and waved a hand at the booth, "Boring."

"What if they spend the whole fifteen minutes arguing like real married people?"

The thought hadn't occurred to Wes. "More drastic measure will need to be employed."

"This is what happens when we let Wes lead," Wedge complained. "He's turned into such a... a Wraith. I think my leaving broke him."

Tycho laughed, amused at having been cleverly maneuvered into the booth with Wedge. "I have never had any idea how his mind works."

Wedge pointed a finger at Tycho, "Drop 'em, Tych."

"Me?"

"You're the one who hasn't had sex yet today. It's my duty to get you set for when Wes is ready for you." The way he was smiling like lunatic told Tycho he wasn't going to win this, so he complied with the order and assumed the position on the kneeling bench. 

"And if he isn't tonight?"

"Hush. Positive thinking." Wedge pulled out one of the sheaths and covered his erection in the thin barrier material, not because he was worried about getting diseases from Tycho, but just to make their clean-up faster and easier. He coated it liberally with lubricant jelly. "I'm going to enjoy this. Every second of it."

"Oh, Force, Wedge," Tycho groaned, struggling to relax enough to allow his lover to enter him. "Has it really been this long between times?"

Air escaped through Wedge's clenched teeth in a hiss. "Apparently. Relax for me, baby."

Whimpering at the burn, Tycho nodded, "Trying."

Wedge pulled out and tried a different strategy. Two slick fingers pressed into his lover's passage well enough, and with a little persistence Wedge managed a work him up to a third without hurting the other man. 

Tycho sighed, "Better."

Wedge had to agree with the assessment, Tycho was perfect now as he reentered him. He held tight to the bare hips and used the leverage to bring them together the for each thrust. The time wasn't nearly enough for Wedge or Tycho to orgasm, and they both grumbled at the beep of the one minute alarm. 

"I could use the swipe card..."

Wedge kissed his cheek, "Save it for a bigger room. Like one we can all fit in, and maybe with a bed."

"Right. Better plan."

"I gave Wes one more red token." The stupid buzzer went off, as did the lights. 

"Noticed."

They used the provided cleansing wipes and Wedge removed the condom with a disappointed head shake. "Wasted that one." 

"Janson can always win us some more. Actually, I forgot that the VIP rooms provide stuff. And warm massage oil, several flavors of lubricants..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and the minimum time is thirty minutes, with no max time if you have a swipe."

"Oh, thank the Force."


	9. Games We Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is playing games. Tycho finally gets his turn with Wes. Rogue kissing intel agents. Wes on his knees, where he really belongs. Group toy shopping.
> 
> Warning - Explicit sex.

A pleased smirk spread across his face as his two Rogues emerged looking pretty much as they had going in, with the exception of a single trickle of perspiration running down Wedge's cheek to his jaw. Wes touched him, tracing the line of it. "Have fun?"

Tycho's nose wrinkled, "Fifteen is too short for anyone to properly get off."

"We're guys," Wes reminded him.

Wedge tugged Wes up against the line of his body and whispered in his ear, "I got him ready for you." He placed the items Wes had given him in a vest pocket. "The boot will fit you perfectly, now."

Eyes locked on the Alderaanian before him, Wes chuckled with pure wicked delight. "Why, thank you, Wedge. You're always so very considerate."

"I aim to please," Wedge assured him. "And I will, again, later. Count on it." 

Wes didn't need any encouragement, really, other than the assurance Tycho was ready to get pounded into next week. When he went to insert the chit in the slot, Tycho's hand beat him to it with the swipe."Save it for a memento, Janson. I got this." 

The cleaning cycle had a five minute count down, already half completed. 

"Where did the card come from, anyway? Face seemed quite impressed."

Tycho leaned in close, breath hot against his ear, "The cleaning cycles after every patron make it impossible to use audio or video surveillance. A perfect place for meeting contacts or agents. The cute girl attendant at the first shooting booth is NRI in training. She recognized us, of course."

Wes' eyes grew as large as saucers. "Uh, oh... I said you were mine. Is Winter going... violently object?"

"Of course not," Tycho assured him. "She may turn up to set you straight on who belongs to whom, but harming you will be the furthest thing from Winter's mind."

Wes turned to Wedge, "Okay, so if I'm your oxygen, just how does Winter fit into your 'needs'?"

A look crossed Wedge's face and it made Wes feel a twinge of jealousy. "Winter is great sex, Wes. I take every moment I can get with her, wherever I can get her, and she's always exceptional," Wedge sighed.

Wes crooked a finger at Tycho. "As long as I have your word, as a Rogue, I won't come out of this night with a death mark on my head."

"No chance, on my honor as a Rogue."

"Into the booth, then," Wes ordered the Colonel.

"Will you be with me this time?"

"Yes." The timer sounded and the light turned green. Wes put a hand to the man's shoulder and gave gentle pressure. "See you in a bit, Wedge. Try the pod racer sim, it's really fun."

"Will do, Boss," Wedge affirmed.

The words made Wes shiver with a thrilling combination of excitement and desire, Wedge had never ever called him 'Boss' before. Definitely something he could get used to. It was so hot.

The door closed behind them and Tycho looked Wes up and down, noticing the sizable bulge in his trousers. "I hope the erection isn't just for Wedge calling you 'boss', Janson."

"Sithspit," Wes sighed. "No, not just that. You're here."

"I am here. In the flesh." As if to prove it, Tycho stripped in record time and knelt on the shin pads, offering his lean body to Wes. 

Wes stepped up behind him and lowered his pants to his knees, not wanting to waste precious time with more. Applying a generous dollop of lube on his bare cock, Wes took a second to survey the bare back and bottom of other Rogue and smiled his appreciation. "Our first time," he warned Tycho. "Not protection. I'm leaving you a reminder."

"If the positions were reversed..." Tycho broke off, gasping as Wes entered him. "Trust me, I'll do the same."

Wes withdrew almost all the way and slammed forward. A glance at the timer spurred him into quick, deep motions. He took the sexy Alderaanian pilot and enjoyed every sound his efforts dragged from the quiet man's lips. Leaning forward to cover him Wes panted, "Not enough kriffing time, need more kriffing time."

"Yeah... oh, do that again. Yeah THAT." Raw aching need rocked them against the bench's padded wood with each thrust. 

"Stupid timer. Oh, Force. How can I make you come with me," Wes pondered allowed, circling his hips with each thrust. "Think I got it."

"You think?"

"Hoth..." Wes sighed, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "If you'd made it past the Wedge blockade, all horny and drunk and demanding, there is absolutely no chance I would you have turned you away. Even after you'd scared me half out of my mind, I'd have bent over for you in a hot minute. And since Hoth... really, all you had to do was... ask." 

The confession made Wes come, certainly, though he wasn't sure of what, if anything, the words did for Tycho. Groaning, he released, still balls deep, and not relenting with the thrusts of his hips until the last tingles of orgasm faded completely. 

Stepping back and reaching for a warmed cloth, breathing rapid and open mouthed, Wes was surprised when Tycho half turned and stuck a pair of semen covered fingers into his mouth. Wes sucked them clean, using his tongue to make sure he got every drop. 

Tycho's pale blue eyes were almost a silver blue-white with desire, "So, yeah, your little confession brought me off." He shook his head and splashed Wes with his sweaty hair. "That's one hell of kink you have there, Wes. You want me to yell at you and pin you against walls on all of our dates?"

"I wish I understood it, myself," Janson shrugged, cleaning up and refastening his pants. "You being an ex-Imperial had something to do with it, back on Hoth, at least. And now, I'm kinda thinking what a terrible waste it would be if all those 'troopers we are always shooting are as hot as you under that armor."

Tycho winced. "Uh, no. As someone who served the Empire, and was a prisoner of the same Empire, I can assure you that fantasy is just plain wrong, on so many levels."

"Well, bIast. And as for you yelling, I don't need you to yell at me. I felt terrible after the blow up in your office." The one minute alarm went off.

"You could see if Face has a theory, since we're all open books to the guy."

"He thinks Winter scares me because I am a 'bottom'. I'm not even sure exactly what 'bottom' meant other than the obvious guy sex?"

Tycho turned to look into Wes' eyes and said, "Huh."

"What?"

"I'm not exactly sure how to explain."

The alarm sounded and the lights shut off, leaving them in darkness. 

"Not sure I enjoy this sex booth thing," Wes confessed. Pouting, he whined, "I don't like to hurry sex." 

Tycho nodded and patted Wes' arm. "Not what I imagined our first time would be like, either."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

Wedge took Wes' advice and enjoyed himself in the pod race, beating out Elassar, Rhysati and Inyri plus a couple of strangers. He was just thinking of getting back in line when a pair of young, attractive women approached him. 

"Are you a Rogue?" The blonde asked him, breathless.

Trying not to wince or helplessly glance around for back-up, Wedge nodded, "I am."

"Oh, I knew it." She turned to her redheaded friend and shot her a look. "See, I told you."

"When we heard Rogue Squadron is in here tonight, my sister and I kinda made a bet." She blushed, adorably. "I bet Ninah I could get a Rogue to kiss me. Would you kiss me?" Her eyes target locked him in place. "My friend can take a holo, so I have proof for my sister."

"I... I don't know." Wedge didn't want to kiss her, not really. He wasn't the stranger kissing type. He left that to his other more adventurous comrades. "There are more Rogues than just me here tonight..."

"Please?" The blonde young lady begged.

With a sigh, Wedge relented, "All right, I'll do it." 

The young redhead pulled out a pocket sized holo-cam just as the other grabbed him by the front of his vest and planted a serious kiss on his lips before he could overthink it, or find an excuse to back out.

Releasing her hold on him, the young woman grinned at him, "Thank you, General." They were gone in the bustle of patrons as quickly as they had appeared.

"Wedge, why are you letting strange Rogue groupies kiss you?" Wes asked, approaching from behind him, so his arrival with Tycho was unexpected. 

"Because that wasn't a standard Rogue groupie," Tycho told them. "Check your pockets."

Wedge patted his pockets and sure enough he found a flat, hard plastic rectangle wrapped in a slip of black flimsy in his lower vest pocket. He looked at it without pulling it out. "What is it?"

"A message, obviously. How... mysterious." Tycho smirked at him. "I suggest finding a stall in the refresher to read it."

Shaking his head, Wedge headed in the direction of the sign indicating the club's washroom facilities. 

The other two followed behind a few paces, and once Wedge disappeared inside, Tycho turned to Wes, "Look, it's Face. You should ask him your question."

Wes rolled his eyes. "Fine." 

"You could always ask later..."

"Why do I feel like you're trying to get rid of me?" Janson grumbled, before he stalked off in the direction indicated. Face was with Dia at the bar against the wall. They were sharing a single barstool. It looked... cozy. They looked up at his approach and a flicker of worry crossed Dia's normally blank visage. 

"Wes..." Dia questioned him. "You okay?" 

"I'm good, just taking a break, and I need to borrow Face for a few minutes, if I can?" 

"Sure." Dia's legs unwrapped from around Face and he stood, setting her shiny black, high-heel boot clad feet onto the floor. "I'm going to go show up some drunken idiots in the shooting gallery. You two flyboys have your... guy talk."

"Do we need a booth?" Face queried, hopefully.

Wes shook his head, "I'm not up for it right now."

"Ah, the sweet smell of hope."

Janson sighed, and lowered his voice, "What did you mean when you said I was a 'bottom'?"

Face grinned, "You have a stellar bottom."

"Face."

Loran got serious, finally. "A 'bottom' is a person with a submissive personality. They are happier taking orders than giving them."

"Yes, okay, that makes sense." Wes ran a hand through his hair and turned in a circle. "I want to tell you a story and I need you to keep it to yourself. I have Tycho's permission to talk about it, but it's not the kind of thing he wants to let get out."

"Understood." Face tapped his chin, thoughtfully. "The bar is too public."

Wes agreed, "Where can we go beside the booths?" 

Face led him into gender neutral refresher, a single large room and when the door closed and locked, and the sudden silence was a shock to his abused ears. 

Turning to face Face, Wes confided, "Tycho has his own version of the Hoth story." He proceeded to run it through, quickly, for the Wraith. It was a relief he was only stopped once to clarify about the drug addiction to the cocktail of stimulants and hormones. 

"What is your question for me, Wes?"

Janson hesitated. With an weary sigh, he confided, "I know I wouldn't have said no to him, Face. Is there something... wrong with me?"

"Other than being a horny, teenage guy with an obvious admirer in Celchu?"

"He threatened me and I liked it."

"No, I don't think so. You liked the being naked and pressed together part. Who wouldn't? His threat you took very seriously. So seriously, in fact, you didn't prank him for years and years. If Tycho had said, instead, 'Drop your towel and bend over, Janson', what would you have done?"

Wes' cock twitched, and he blew out a breath. "Sithspit."

"Get on your knees."

"What?"

"You heard me." Face's tone hardened, and it sent a weird jolt of thrill through Wes. "Get... on... your... knees. Now. And while you are at it, put your hands behind your head." Wes didn't even realized he'd complied until Face patted his cheek, "Good boy."

"Why did I do that?"

"It's a kink. One you were probably born with. Not kinky people, who have already banged and been banged by two other guys today, would just tell me to kriff off when I tell them to get on their knees."

"One. I've only been banged by one, so far."

Face looked down at him, still kneeling on the floor, and tsked. "What's wrong with you, big brother? Are you out of credit chits? No, can't be it, Tycho has a swipe. You shouldn't be here. You should be on the third floor copulating like Porgs during the height of mating season." He paced the floor and when he was facing Wes, again, he said, "Please stand up, Wes, I'm going to have a hard enough time explaining to Dia why I came out of the 'fresher with you with an obvious, throbbing erection."

His eyes were drawn to the bulge in Loran's pants, and Wes tried not to think too much about how he'd caused the hard on by kneeling for Face. "You can say you were remembering her sitting on your lap and straddling you with those sexy boots on." He stood and went to stand by the sink, splashing his face with water, then looking at Face in the mirror.

"Nice save. Should work." He patted Wes' vest pocket. "You got a note from some admirer."

Feeling in the pocket, Wes fished out a scrap of writing material. He read it aloud, "TRY ROOM 4, JANSON - TARGETER"

Loran burst out laughing. "Four is the best suite, in my opinion. Don't ask me how I know." At Wes' confused frown, Face hugged him from behind. "Take your gorgeous, horny new lovers to room four, Janson. You'ill find everything you need. Trust me." Pressing a kiss to Wes' temple, Face muttered, "So adorable when you're clueless. Tell your Rogues about how much fun you had kneeling for me, just now. I'm fairly certain Tycho will know what to do next."

"Are you sure, Face?"

"How many credits do you already owe me?"

Wes winced, "I lost count. Lots."

Face waved a dismissive hand. "I didn't really want them, anyway. In addition to being handsome, I'm loaded, remember? If you figure it out, donate the credits to Kell and Tyria's honeymoon fund."

Wes smiled and nodded, then added as an afterthought, "You make a great CO, Captain Loran."

"I've had some fine leaders recently to model myself after." Face spun on his heel and left Wes alone in the refresher. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

With Janson off to question Loran, Tycho enjoyed a moment to catch his breath and organize his thoughts. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he found a server in a skin tight, and also quite revealing, Darkmatter uniform shirt stood about two paces back from him with a drink held out in offer. He took it gratefully and sipped, pleased to discover it was his favorite brand of Churban brandy. "Thank you." He told the server. "You have no idea how much I needed this. How much do I owe you?"

"Compliments of the house, Colonel."

The napkin felt oddly stiff and Tycho found flimsy between cloth and crystal. His own message, undoubtedly. He smiled, genuinely pleased. "Thank you, again." He pressed a generous tip into her palm, and her green eyes grew large with surprise. 

"Keep it for yourself," he ordered her. 

"Thank you, sir. I'm supposed to wait for a reply," she told him under her breath. 

"Oh. Sure." He removed the napkin and scanned the note. DO THE CHILDREN NEED TO BE SPANKED AND SENT TO BED? -TARGETER This made Tycho laugh out loud. "No." He shook his head in amusement. "Please, tell Targeter the children are fine just where they are."

"As you wish."

"Do you have a head count?"

The young woman looked surprised, and maybe a tiny bit offended, "Of course. Nineteen."

"No trouble?"

She grinned at him. "No issues. One of the younger children is surprisingly good at winning at the skill towers. The big guy with blue eyes and the loads of muscles."

Tainer. It didn't surprise him. Tycho smirked, "Cleaned you out, did he?"

"Two whole cranes. An attendant is working to restock them."

Smirking and rolling his eyes, Tycho asked, "Sex toys?"

"Stuffed dolls."

"Sithspit. Why do I feel a prank is coming?" 

A smile lit up her face, and Tycho had to admit she was a beauty, though too young for his tastes. 

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?"

"How did you end up with a server job and not the Rogue kissing?"

Looking up at him coyly from under her black tinted lashes, she mouthed, "Already kissed all my Rogues."

"Would you be willing to pass a message to Targeter for me?" Tycho whispered, glancing around to see if anyone was watching them. Then, he proceeded to cup her face gently in his palms and kiss her passionately, letting his tongue tease her lips. Her pink lip-gloss transferred to his own mouth. He could feel the waxiness of it when he pulled back and licked his lips. "Always good to bank bonus points."

"Absolutely. Congratulations on being made Rogue CO, Colonel." 

"Thank you."

"Enjoy the rest of your visit."

"Oh, I plan to," he whispered to her retreating back.

"Tycho, did she just kiss you?" Wedge asked. He was back, with Wes in tow. 

Wes added, "You have pink sparkly lip dye on your mouth, Colonel. That color is all wrong for you."

"I kissed her." Tycho told them, smugly. "It's a competition. I was trying to get her some extra credits." He looked at Wes, sending the question in his look, 'Learn anything useful?'

Wes bit his lip, then nodded. With a sigh, the Rogue said, "I'm kinky."

"We figured that much out already," Wedge deadpanned.

Slapping his forehead, Wes felt in his pocket and found the slip of flimsy. "I got a note. It said to try room number four." He handed the note to Tycho who read it and nodded. Tycho turned and asked Wedge, "What did your note say?" 

Wedge held up a black and gold swipe card in triumph, a twin to the one residing in his vest pocket. 

"A present," Tycho nodded, grinning. "And a note?"

"Yes," Wedge acknowledged. "An open invitation to stop in and play if I need a break from my new position."

"Awww."

Wedge screwed up his face. "I have a bad feeling she knows something about this job I don't."

Tycho nodded, "Probably." He patted the General on the back. "I got a brandy with my note."

"I could use a drink," Wedge confessed.

"Let's get you both a drink."

Wes frowned at them, "I didn't get a swipe card..."

"You don't need one, Wes. You have us."

"If you come here without us, we'll probably be unhappy and a tad jealous," Tycho told him. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Sarkin..." Asyr called to the Wraith as she and Kell passed through the section of arcade style skill games nearby. They walked up to a tall transparisteel game cylinder filled with stuffed toys. "Can you nudge the toy just a bit to the left with the Force?"

The Wraith blinked at her and frowned. "I don't think cheating at skill games is what the Force is supposed to be used for."

"That's our new pilot in there. Think of it as a rescue mission. We can't leave him in this transparisteel prison. We have to save him."

Tyria looked at the doll the Bothan was pointing at. "The thing is ugly."

"He's cute for a Kowakian monkey-lizard," Gavin told her.

Kell shook his head in exasperation. "They call them skill games, Rogues, because they require skill."

"They just want all our credit chits," Gavin complained. "I don't think anyone can win these toys."

"Challenge accepted." Tainer stretched the muscles of his neck and shoulders, then cracked his knuckles. "Give me all your credits and some space to work. And someone post a lookout for the love birds."

Twenty minutes later, Tyria cradled three monkey-lizard dolls in her arms and Asyr had four. Looking them over, the Wraith traded her dolls with Asyr until she found one she liked, holding it up, she said, "This is your new pilot, but for some reason I keep seeing her black hair alternating between bright blue and lavender on the ends. Same face, different hair. It's weird."

"Really?" Gavin frowned at her. "You aren't pranking us?"

"Nope. Honestly, I touched this toy and I saw a woman in an orange flight suit with the Rogue logo patch. No joke." She handed the thing to Gavin as quickly as she could get rid of it. "Ugh. I don't like doing stuff like that."

To Kell, Asyr said, "This is the last one. Thank you for the assist. I just wish we could get a few more."

"Twelve total?" Kell asked, grinning at her. "Joke works better if you have a full squadron. And tiny orange flight suits and helmets for them to wear."

One of the toys let out a screechy cackle, "Ah hah hah hah hah hah." Making them all wince and look around to see if anyone was watching them. 

Tyria gave it a very maternal scolding, "Hush, you." She glanced at her lover and around at the other games. "Maybe, if we search, we can find another machine like this one. Or another type of machine, but with the same dolls? I'm going to do some recon." Off-loading the dolls onto Darklighter, she hurried away. 

About five minutes later, she was back with them, grinning madly. "Good news. I found another machine with more monkey-lizards." Tyria's smile grew even more pleased. "And they sell the irritating little beasts in the first floor gift shop, too. Those ones can be programmed to say things in that horrible voice."

"Do you think we should get more of them?" Gavin asked, locking eyes with Asyr, silently seeking permission.

Asyr sighed and nodded. "I have it on good authority the Colonel is going to give Major Janson a ridiculous amount of personnel files to review this week. I had to do the database searches and pull the files for the next briefing."

Kell burst out laughing. "I love this idea. We want to help, don't we, 'Ria?"

"Yes," Tyria nodded, ponytail bobbing. "Please, count us in."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Can we get pod racer sims for our recreation center?" Wes pleaded with Tycho, after their second race. "And maybe some RPG sims, too?"

Tycho jerked a thumb in Wedge's direction, "The General is the one you need to work on. He's appointed himself in charge of pilot wellbeing for Admiral Akbar, remember?"

"I did, didn't I?" Wedge admitted, surprising himself. 

"Ooh, can we? Can we, please?"

Wedge sighed, "I don't know. I'll have to look into how much those simulators cost. Then, we have to locate somewhere in the rec center with space to put them."

Wes let out a whoop and punched a fist into the air. "Yes!"

"That wasn't a yes..."

Wes thought about what Face told him about the fund for Tyria and Kell's honeymoon. "We could take up a collection to help with the costs. Think it would help?"

"Might."

Wes turned back to Tycho. "Is it time for the second floor?"

"Or we could hit the blaster range, again."

"Not the kind of shooting I'm in the mood for, right now."

Wedge's mouth fell open, like a landed fish, and Tycho laughed, "Your innuendo shocked him." He gestured a thumb at Wedge. "He's speechless, again. Like he was when you came out of his bedroom mostly naked."

"You were just as stunned. I remember." Wes patted the General lightly on the cheek. "What's wrong, Wedge?" When Wedge didn't respond, he asked Tycho, "How do I reboot him?"

"If you keep flirting with him, we're going to have to program him with a restart sequence."

Wes studied his lover, thoughtfully. Then he shrugged, cupping Wedge's face in his hands and very lightly kissed him. When he pulled back, he said in a low rumble, "If you come upstairs, I'll take my clothes off and let you run you hands all over me, again."

The glazed eyes suddenly focused. "Promise?"

"Anywhere you want, Wedge."

Wedge nodded. "'Kay."

"You know what we need to do first?" Tycho whispered to Wes. "I was thinking Wedge needs some toys of his own."

Rubbing his hands together gleefully, Wes nodded, "A collection of the most outrageous dildos..." He happily led the way to the lift car and they rode to the second level. 

As they walked along the balcony that looked down on the controlled chaos Darkmatter's main floor, Wes examined the offerings in the skill machines and vending kiosks and made a few grabs. At one point, out of the corn of his eye, he noticed Wedge make a face and flush an interesting shade of red. "What?" He halted and scanned the machine to find out what had embarrassed his new lover. 

Tycho chuckled, "Winter has one of those." He pointed at a double ended phallus. "Wedge likes it, but he stubbornly refuses to admit how much he likes it."

"Do you like it?"

Wedge pursed his lips and scowled at them. "No."

"Yeah, the Wraiths are right. You are a hopelessly bad liar, but I love that about you." He took Wedge's hand and kissed his knuckles. "Is there something you like better? Or something about it you would change?"

Wedge gave him narrowed eyes. "Why should I tell you? You'll use it against me. Like your ticklish spots."

"Okay, fine. I will fess up. I'm ticklish in a lot of places, Wedge, lots of places," Wes admitted. "Now, your turn."

"It would be nice if it wasn't so small."

Wes examined the dildo with a raised eyebrow. "Huh. Doesn't look small to me. It's really long."

Wedge sighed, "It's too... skinny."

Tycho made a choked sound, coughing to cover his chuckles. "I'm pretty sure they make them any size you can imagine."

Wedge glared at Wes. "He'll tell Winter. She'll stop using it, thinking I think it's not fun."

"No, Wedge, Winter will make the logical jump and conclude you are ready for more advanced toys, thicker toys to stretch you more when we play together."

The General thought about this for a moment, "Fine."

"I know what will make you happy. You pick a toy for me, next," Wes told him.

Wedge nodded, a greedy glint in his eyes. "Yes." They moved to a nearby vending machine and Wedge pointed to his selection. 

Tycho laughed, "Heh. I know what you are doing, Antilles. Don't think I'm not on to you."

Wes looked at the toy Wedge selected for him, the length and thickness made it intimidating. Daunting, even. "That's certainly a big one. I don't see how it's going to fit inside me. You going to help me with it?"

"Absolutely."

"In return, I'll let you watch Tycho pound me into the mattress. Not your mattress, but still a mattress." 

"Yes. Yes. Yes." Wedge nodded, naked lust in his eyes.

Wes turned to Tycho, grinning. "You're thick, aren't you?"

"How did you guess?"

"I didn't get a good look before, in the booty-call booth." The trio of Rogues laughed at this description. 

Tycho stopped, "Sithspawn, I just thought of something." He pulled out his comlink and sent a message.

Almost immediately, Wes' own 'link signaled an incoming alert from Rogue HQ. He pulled it out and held it to his ear. "Yes. Thank you! I was worried."

"Me, too," Tycho confessed.

Wedge frowned from one of them to the other "What?"

"Our new CO postponed tomorrow's morning briefing and gave us all the day off."

A grin spread across Wedge's face, "What a nice CO you have."

"He's also kinda hot," Wes mock whispered. 

"Oh, really? Scary hot or regular hot?"

"Scary isn't so hot. It's the bossy. Bossy is really very hot."

Both sets of eyes tracked to him, locking onto Wes with laser intensity. "You care to elaborate?" This came from Wedge, who was making his 'I'm thinking too hard' frowny face.

"Not here, no. Loran said to go to room four and after I tell you what happened in the 'fresher, Tycho would know what to do."

Tycho nodded, heading for the lift. 

A hand touched his arm, and he found Wes kissing close, "Take Wedge and wait for me by the lift. I need to get him a... present."

"Sure."


	10. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally make it to room four, as ordered. 
> 
> Warnings for anal play, oral play, toy play, three way play, and light bondage.

Once Wes' shopping spree was complete, Tycho led them up the lift to the third floor and from there it wasn't hard to find room four in a plush hallway better suited to a luxury resort hotel. 

Wedge gave a low whistle. "This is nice."

"Yeah," Wes agreed.

Tycho swiped his card, the door sliding open to reveal a suite as impressive as the hallway, and Wedge and Wes followed Tycho inside. The door closed behind them as they surveyed their surroundings. 

A large platform bed with a coverlet of smooth, matte black fabric and piled with an assortment of cushions and pillows dominated the space. The entire wall above the bed was an intricate tiled mural of a dual sunset on some beach, complete with foaming azur waves and lush tropical foliage. Here and there, incorporated into the design, small glinting metal loops stuck out. It didn't occur to Wes to ask what function they served. 

His attention was already on to the next thing: an equally lovely mural on the high ceiling with more of the little loops, plus a few larger rings, as well. 

On the wall beside the door where they entered, the room had an interface terminal screen to the left, while a mass of large and small drawers made up the wall on the right. An archway on the side wall led to a private refresher with a shower big enough for half the Rogues to stand in shoulder to shoulder. 

"Put the toys we want to use in the sanitizer drawer and hit the yellow button. Wedge and I will get the bed ready."

When Wes finished unpacking his goodies and getting them into the cleaning cycle, he turned to find his Rogues already naked and sitting on the bed. Tycho held a pillow clutched in his lap, and his eyes were bright with amusement. Wedge was giving him the boyish grin always guaranteed to mean he was plotting things in his head and liking the direction his thoughts were taking.

"Got yourselves ready, too, I see." A shiver fueled by equal parts anticipation and desire ran through Wes from the top of his head to the tips of his toes at picture the two men made waiting for him to join them. He reached for his vest.

"Yes," Tycho instructed him, "Strip for us."

Trying hard not to make a childish face, Janson shrugged out of his vest and let it drop to the floor at his feet. Unbuttoning his shirt, he slipped it off teasingly slow, one shoulder at a time, to join the growing pile of their clothing on the floor. When Wes' reached for the buckle on his belt, his eyes were on Wedge's face, and he gave his lover a sly grin, licking his lips and turned away so his broad back was to his audience. 

The belt came off in one smooth pull as Wes peeked over his shoulder at them coyly, but this time he focused on Tycho, who had the same combination of rapt attention and hunger in his expression which mirrored Wedge's exactly. 

They were like horny teenagers eagerly watching their first holo-porn vid in a friend's basement, and this was exactly the reaction Wes wanted.

HIs pants and boxers started to slide over his hips and he heard someone's breath give a hitch. After a few teasing starts and stops which didn't reveal more than the very top of his buttocks, Wes slid them down his thighs and kicked them off, after which he struck a pose worthy of one of the Wraiths, feet wide apart while flexing his shoulders, back and arm muscles to maximum effect. 

When Wes clenched the muscles in his bare buttocks, Tycho's breath left him in a hiss. 

Wedge crooked a finger at him as he turned around and pointed to the empty spot between them. "Get on the bed," the General ordered him, using nearly the same bossy tone Face had. The odd urge to obey was so strong, Wes winced, more than a bit annoyed with himself. As he climbed onto the platform, he grumbled at Wedge, "Face did that to me in the 'fresher."

"What did he do?" A touch of jealously, and maybe a hint of possessiveness, crept into Wedge's expression and voice. 

The same held true when Tycho added, "Did he kiss you?" His eyes flashed dangerously. Apparently, jealous Tycho was almost as scary as pissed off Tycho.

"No. Well, I don't think a forehead kiss is worth getting all worked up about," Wes assured him. Settling between them on his knees, he felt awkward, or maybe just a tad shy. 

"The story, Wes," Tycho reminded him. 

"Alright, alright. I told him about your addiction and near obsession with me. I confessed I wouldn't have said no to you, even though you scared me in the locker room. Then, Face asks me, 'What would you have done if Tycho hadn't threatened you, but instead said, 'Drop the towel and bend over...' all up close and pressed against me, instead?" 

Wedge and Tycho shared a meaningful look between them. In unison, they groaned, "Sithspit."

"Hoth Protocol?" Tycho asked.

The look on Wedge's face said it all. His answer was more composed, "Maybe? The briefing would have been delayed, certainly." Looking to Wes and noticing his frown, he nodded, "Continue."

"Out of the blue Face says, 'Get on your knees.' I'm confused, of course, so he says it a second time, but this time Face says it like he really means it. 'Get... on... your... knees... and put your hands behind your head." Wes bit his lower lip, hard. 

"Please, don't bite your lip, Wes. It's... distracting," Tycho warned.

Wes stopped. Nodding, he continued, "I don't even remember moving. I just realized I was looking up at him."

"What did Face do?" Wedge coaxed.

"You mean after he got mad at me for his enjoying me on my knees so much he was getting an erection?" 

He felt the mattress shift when Tycho slipped off the bed to access the control panel, he assumed, but Wes could't see him because Wedge had commenced with kissing him, hungrily. Pulling back for lack of air, Wes tried to continue breathlessly, "Face noticed I had something in my pocket when I was getting up and he smiled when I read the note. He told me to go tell you my story, then follow the instructions on the note and go to this room. He assured me Tycho would know what to do." 

Wes turned to look at Tycho standing by the door with his bare back to them. "Do you know what to do? Because I am still lost."

"Don't worry, we know what to do," Wedge affirmed, kissing him very tenderly this time and pulling him into his embrace, which felt like the perfect combination of warm chest and strong arms, the scent of shave lotion and clean Wedge. "I suppose it's the best kink to have, with us as your lovers, Wes," the Corellian assured him, not letting him go. "If it excites you to be told what to do in bed, well, Tycho and I tell you what to do almost every day. We probably won't have to stretch too far to adapt to dominating you during intimacy, at least some of the time. Reigning it in and not being too bossy will be a greater challenge. Or like earlier tonight when we let you take the lead. I guess any new relationship requires negotiating a balance."

Tycho returned with a bundle in his arms. He set the stuff down and turned his attention to their conversation. "Yes. The trick of locking us in the booth. Clever, but I really feel like you need to pay for it. Also, it got you excited for us to call you 'boss' and let you make the choices. We can give up control when we want to."

"It's not easy," Wedge confessed.

"Of course not, General, you are much too comfortable with command. Time to share the power more equally with your subordinates, at least, on a personal level."

"It feels wrong," the General added, face scrunched adorably. "I'll try."

Tycho held up a trio of long black strips for Wedge to see. In response, Wedge blew out a breath, sounding relieved as he said, "Yes, please. I need help tonight."

"Me, too," the Colonel agreed. "I haven't had a single orgasm, yet. I'm long overdue."

Wes watched as Wedge took the strip of what appeared to be leather from Tycho and used it, to his great surprise, for encircling his scrotum and erect cock. The band secured with a snap fastener and now Wedge's genitals stuck out prominently from his body. "What is it? And... why?" He frowned at the thing, half horrified, but half loving the way it looked. "Does it hurt?"

Tycho held up the second strip and smiled at him, indulgently. "This means you can't make us come as easily. Not with words, not with petting or kissing..."

"I don't think it stops an orgasm if you are really worked up, but it helps. Force, it helps to hold you back, until you take the band off." Wedge look down at himself, "And it also keeps you hard pretty much indefinitely."

The look Wes gave his lover was pure shock and awe. He turned his body to look at Tycho and gave an involuntary gasp at the sheer size of the other man's erection. "Whoa."

"Big, isn't he?" Wedge chuckled. "Yeah. It's a good thing we have this room for the rest of the night. It may take a while to stretch you to Tycho's level of fun."

Tycho followed Wedge's example and put the cock ring on himself. If he looked impressive before, his scrotum and penis looked slightly terrifying, now. 

"Shavit," Wes gaped.

"I won't be offended if you decide to hold off on this step with me for a while, or indefinitely."

There was a tightness around his eyes, and Wes had to know, "Have you had a lover refuse you?"

"Yes. Twice, actually."

"I'm sorry, Tycho," Wes told him, and meant it. "You forget who you are dealing with, though. I'm a flyboy and Rogue, and if Wedge can take you, I'm sure as hell not going to let him have something he can do which I can't."

Tycho looked both surprised and awestruck. He laughed and it was a good, happy sound and Wes vowed to make the sound a more frequent part of the Colonel's life. 

"This is why I love you," Wedge confessed to Janson. 

"Because I'm all about getting laid?" Wes teased him. "And I like big cocks?"

Wedge chuckled, shaking his head. "Because you are a fantastic person, under all your envy inspiring muscles and pranks and sarcasm."

"Awww." Wes turned around on the bed to face Tycho.

Tycho's lips quirked. "Let me see your wrist..." A black padded cloth strip wrapped his left wrist, and Wes tried to pull his hand back, but Tycho had a death grip on it as he fastened the buckle. Once the left was done, Tycho drove for the right wrist and Wes had nowhere to hide it, so he just gave a little growl as the cuff was buckled on the right as well. 

"Ooh, did he just growl at you, Tych?"

"He sure did," Tycho sighed, "It was sexy. A sexy growl." His work on the wrist cuffs complete, Tycho took a length of cord and snapped the clip at the end to the loop on the right cuff. Then, he threaded the cord through two of the little loops in the wall mural, about a meter apart and waved the free end in Wes' direction. "Do I just wrestle you to the mattress to get you where I need you, or will you let me if I ask nicely?"

Wes eyed him, considering the options he was offering and trying to decide if playing hard to get was worth delaying sex. "For the record, it would take the both of you to wrestle me down," he warned. "Count on it."

The Rogues looked at each other, sharing a look of amusement, and Wedge said, "Be a good boy and lay on your stomach, so Tycho can show you his secret skill."

Sighing, Wes acquiesced with a muttered, "Oh, all right." He settled in the center of the bed and the mystery of the loops and cord made much more sense when Tycho leaned close to his face and kissed him on the jaw, at the same time, clipping the cord to the cuff on his other wrist. Wes found himself firmly attached to the wall with his wrists slightly above his head and shoulder width apart. "Cute," he muttered. "You got me. Now, what?" 

Tycho nodded in satisfaction, "Ground rules: if anything hurts, or we doing something you don't want to do, you say, 'red' and everything stops. Understood? And if we are going too fast for you, or you need a break, you say, 'yellow'. You reading me?"

"I copy."

"Repeat it back to me..." Tycho coaxed.

Wes stuck his tongue out at him. "Red means stop. Yellow means slow down."

"Yellow also means we can try something else, instead." He kissed Wes, again, this time on his lips, slow and sweet and before he pulled back he captured the impudent tongue and sucked on it. "Huh. Who knew such an annoyingly smart, sarcastic mouth could kiss so well?" 

To the slightly stinging comment, Wes snarked, "You're smearing the NRI girl's glittery goop all over my mouth."

Tycho gave him a flash of straight, white teeth in an almost smile. "The color looks better on you."

"Let's do this together," Tycho told Wedge. He lifted a bottle of warm oil from his pile and poured some into Wedge's cupped hands, and then took some of it back into his own cupped palm. He proceeded to rub his hands together with the other man's to coat them with the massage oil.

Wedge smiled at him, and turned the smile on Wes. "Tycho has taken massage classes. His hands are brilliant."

"Why thank you, Wedge. You're an excellent pupil, and I think it's about time to show us what you've learned."

Wedge rubbed his hands together, moving to Wes' side, and Tycho matched him on the other side. They started with Wes' fingers and his captured hands, moving down the firm muscles of Wes' arms and gorgeous biceps to his broad shoulders with long firm strokes. 

Four strong hands kneaded the tension from those shoulders, and it wasn't long before Wes gave a sigh and relaxed into their touch, surrendering his body to their ministrations. "I could get used to this massage thing," Wes confessed. "It's niiiiice."

The look Wedge shot him was playful, as Tycho agreed, "Yeah, we could get used to running our hands over your naked body, too. Although, your ass is distracting Wedge from his massaging." 

The tension from Janson's shoulders carried down his back all the way to his slim hips, and as a team they worked diligently to find the knots of tension and ease them away with their kneading and stroking.

Wedge gave Tycho a wink and dribbled a line of warm oil along the top of Wes' bottom. 

Wes tugged a little at the wrist cuffs in surprise. "You promised not to tickle," he accused.

"I'm not trying to tickle. I needed more oil."

"Huh," Wes grunted. 

A hand smacked Wes' buttock and he gasped at the shock of the lightly stinging blow he'd not been expecting. "You said we couldn't tickle, we didn't make any promises about not spanking your gorgeous bottom," Tycho said, conversationally.

"Right. No promises on not spanking, and he earned the spanking, didn't he?"

The Colonel nodded, "He did. Wes tricked us, definitely a spanking offense in my book." He gave the other cheek a matching smack. 

"Ooh, ooh. Me, too. My turn," Wedge nodded in agreement, rubbing his hands together eagerly. His smacks were harder and more numerous. Each buttock took multiple stinging blows before his moving to the next one. Then, he went back for seconds. 

Tycho raised his eyebrows at the General. "Leave some for me, greedy." He rubbed the taunt, muscular bottom to take away the sting. "You alright, Wes?"

"Wedge is spanking me," Wes groused. "Is it turning him on to abuse my backside?"

They both turned their heads to look at Wedge's crotch, and sure enough, he was still completely erect, and he nodded, "Yes, I would say so. Why did I never think to spank you before?"  
In between Tycho's next rounds of spanks, Wes rumbled, "Because I'm bigger than you, and I wouldn't let you. In fact, if I wasn't cuffed to this kriffing wall, I'd probably be exacting revenge right about now."

Tycho sighed, reluctant to stop touching the smooth, warm perfection of Wes' backside. "We should move on to the front side, now." 

They rolled Wes over and Tycho straddled him to hold him in place while he unhooked the cord and unfastened the cuffs to refasten them more comfortably for the new position. "Be still," Tycho commanded him, in full dominant mode. "If you want to spank one or both of us, we will give you a chance later."

The tag team Rogues worked in small movements, not hurrying, starting with forehead and temples and even his scalp before they moved to his ears and neck and worked methodically to his shoulders. 

By this point, Tycho had discovered the hyper-sensitive area below and behind Wes' ear and he couldn't wait to return to the spot later with his lips. When he kneaded the corded muscles in Wes' neck, he got the first whimpering from Janson. He'd turned his head to the side to give Tycho better access and under his breath he said, "Tense."

"Yes, I can see that. You've been under a great deal of stress this week. We can help, stay relaxed and close your eyes. Focus on the feel of our hands and let everything else go. If you relax enough, a really good massage can put you into a trance-like state." 

Wedge caught up to Tycho's progress and Wes turned his head back toward Tycho, who was moving to give extra attention to the knotted muscles around his collarbones. They took their time on his shoulders from the new angle. 

Tycho led them down to Wes' chest, circling his nipples and massaging his pectoral muscles. Wes gave another sigh when Wedge's thumb stoked over his nipple, and this made Tycho do the same to the nipple in his care. A thought occurred to Tycho, "Are you ticklish under your arms?"

Wes nodded, "Very."

"Do you want us to avoid the area for tonight?"

"Please."

"We can always come back to it," Wedge assured him. "Maybe, we could plan a whole night devoted to mapping the tickle zones for future fun."

Wes screwed his face all up and earned a kiss on the nose from Wedge.

"They make all sorts of toys for tickling," Tycho agreed. "The possibilities are endless: feathers, ticklers, dripping ice, tongues." 

This made Wes tug at the cuffs and start to raise off his head and shoulders off the bed. 

Tycho tutted at him. "Lay still like a good boy and take your massage. We're just getting to the good parts." To illustrate, the Colonel ran a single finger down the center of his chest, between the ridges of the firm abdominal muscles and dipped the tip of his finger into Wes' navel. He was rewarded with a twitch from Janson's unbound erection, which had begun to leak pre-ejaculate during the spanking session. 

Wes squirmed, trying to dislodge the finger invader. "Uhn." Tycho leaned forward and replaced the finger with a swirl of his tongue, making Wes cry out. "No no no."

"Why not?"

"I'm not wearing one of those band things, if your tongue gets any lower, I'm gonna lose my load."

Wedge frowned at him, confused. "And this is a bad thing?"

Wes pulled at his bound hands again. "Don't wanna come, yet."

"What if we want to make you come for us?"

"This could work," Tycho agreed. "I could move to your feet next and work my way up, while Wedge shows you his special secret talent."

Wedge's eyes brightened, obviously liking idea. "Oh, yes."

"What's Wedge's talent?"

"Better to have him show you. Words are... insufficient."

Wedge nodded, smirking and chuckling to himself. He gave Wes a few kisses on his face and neck, and then caught an earlobe between his lips. When Wes shuddered, he whispered hotly in his ear, "You like that, baby. Just wait." He crawled down the length of Wes' body and placed a kiss to the center of Wes' belly, just above the tip of his hard cock. 

Then, Wedge took the head of his penis all the way back to the back of his throat, causing Janson to cry out and struggle in surprise. Moving back, and teasing it with his tongue, Wedge hummed. The look on Wes' face as Wedge repeated the deep throating of his oversensitive flesh was priceless for the sheer shock value. Better than any prank they could have played on him. Wes lay open mouthed with wide, glaze eyes. 

"Wedge didn't need classes for perfecting his secret skill. He's as good at giving head as he is at flying his X-wing. Naturally talented." Tycho started with Wes' right heel and his hands coated the skin with oil. He used his thumbs to apply pressure to the pressure points from heel to instep to the balls of Wes' foot, before working with the toes and the top of his foot.

The massage served as a needed counter point to Wedge's oral pleasuring, and proved just enough of a distraction to keep Wes from coming in Wedge's mouth in the first two or three minutes. Although, his eyes fluttered and rolled back in head until Tycho worried the Rogue might just faint.

"You alright there, Janson?" he asked, smugly, as he switched to the other foot. 

Wes lifted his head to meet Tycho's eye and the look he gave him was dark, almost a glare. "You kept this from me? This? How could you?"

"You never invited us over for dinner," Tycho countered. "If you invite us over... I'm sure Wedge would be happy to make up for years of missed cock sucking. And I haven't shown you what I learned in the erotic massage class, yet."

Thrashing and pulling on the restraints, Wes moaned, "Coming, coming, coming..." 

Wedge released his penis and turned to look at him. "No. You come when I say. On my mark."

"Sithspawn!" Janson howled.

"Five. Four. Three." Wedge gripped Wes' erection and gave it a couple of quick strokes, "Two." Another pair of strokes. "One." Then, with a chuckle bordering on a slightly hysterical, Wedge panted, "Now."

Wes' orgasm tore a howl from his throat and bowed his back, arching him up off the mattress and sending jets of ejaculate into the air and running over and down Wedge's fingers where he still gripped him as he jerked and spasmed. 

The clenching of his ass caught Tycho's attention and he reaching into the pile and pulled out a small vibe which Wes had obviously bought and planned to use on them. Donning a pair of gloves, Tycho listened as Wedge murmured praise to their new lover, petting his chest in soothing circles as he came down from his ecstasy. 

Holding up a pair of egg shaped vibration devices with long cords, Tycho asked, "Just who did you plan on putting these into, Wes?" The corner of his mouth quirked. "And, more importantly, who gets the remote which controls them? Should I put them in you?""NO!" Wes yelped. "No no no. I need a break. Going to put them in you and Wedge." 

Tycho coated them in lube and nodded, "Okay. Wedge goes first." 

Wes seemed... surprised, by how easily they gave him what he wanted. 

Wedge laughed. "Sure, why not? I volunteer for a toy." He turned, so his backside faced Wes and he had an unobstructed view as Tycho moved to the other side of the bed with Wedge and took his time as he pressed a single digit into Wedge and spread the gel before he placed the silver metallic egg against the tightly puckered anus and pressed firmly until the toy was swallowed up and disappeared except for the length of cord used to retrieve it. 

"Shavit," Wes hissed. "That was so hot." He stuck his hand up as far as the cord would let him and Tycho placed the small remote in in palm. He used his thumb to slide the little lever and Wedge inhaled sharply. He lowered it as Wedge bit his lip and nodded. "That's good," Wedge assured him. "Will you leave it there for a bit so I can get used to it?" 

Wes smirked, "For a bit. Maybe. The package advertised all sorts of programs and variations to try." He met Tycho's eyes, and raised an eyebrow in question, making the other sigh, "Oh, all right." 

Tycho turned and presented his backside to Wes, and with practiced ease, his fingers pressed the toy into him with a slow slide. It wasn't large, just cold and unyielding. The vibrations started, then, and he felt it in his prostate as well as his passage. 

"Best part of this purchase," Wes confided to them. "The remote has a range of one hundred meters."

"Why would a toy have that kind of range?"Wes grinned wickedly, eyes bright. "You could be in the next room, or in the next simulator pod, and I could jack the speed up and make you shoot more than just TIE fighters."

Tycho barked a laugh. "Oh, Sithspawn."

"We've created a monster," Wedge told him, solemnly. "A perverted orgasm inducing monster."

"I've always been that." Tycho doubted, and let Wes know it. "You haven't seen my toy collection... yet."

"Speaking of toys. It's time for Wedge to use these other toys on you. I've got to come, soon, or I'll probably die," Tycho sighed. 

Wedge nodded. "Don't need toys for the first stretching part," he told Wes. "Just my cock and your ass." He moved to kneel between Wes' thighs and Tycho handed him a jar of thick, creamy salve. There was a tremendous sigh when he unfastened the cock ring and released himself from the imprisonment. "Oh, that always feels great to get rid of." Making quick work of rubbing the cream all over him and Wes' puckered opening, Wedge didn't waste time. He was sinking into the tight heat so easily Tycho felt a twinge of envy. 

Janson gave a breathless moan, a low rumble in his broad chest. "Yes, Wedge, yes."

Tycho straddled his hips and leaned forward to unclip his wrists and release him from the wall. The cuffs unbuckled, and Wes flexed his wrists, which were sweaty under the thick fabric. Hands free to reach out, he wrapped Tycho in a bear hug and pulled him down to kiss him. 

Nose to nose, Wes said, "Want me to turn up the buzz?"

"Yes," Tycho nodded. "And give me a pattern like long, short, short, long."

"You know your toys," Wes mused, impressed.

Tycho nodded, "I have a collection of my own. Winter brings me presents from her travels. I have an electro-stim egg from Chandrila, and it gives multiple orgasms." His eyes widened in surprise as the toy inside him stopped vibrating and started the familiar tingling. "Oh, yes. Nice." His eyes drifted closed. "Not too long, though. I'm painfully close."

Wedge let out a curse and the corner of Wes' mouth quirked. His eyes never left Tycho's, though they both knew he was messing with the vibrator inside Wedge. "Janson," their favorite General growled in warning and Wes sighed and adjusted the setting to something less orgasmic. 

"Wedge..." Tycho pleaded. 

The other Rogue withdrew from his happy place pounding Wes' ass and picked up a large green phallus, a necessary step between Wedge's cock and the larger phallus he's made Wes purchase earlier. 

The green dildo slipped inside Wes relatively easily, as Tycho watched his expression between kisses and their mutual groping. His lips found the magic spot he'd discovered earlier and he pressed his lips to it, just below and behind Wes' left ear, reveling in the full body shiver his kiss incited. His tongue teased the spot and he could feel Wes' cock stir against his. "Like that spot, do you?"

"Uhn. Yes. More tongue." His eyes pupils were currently dilated until almost nothing remained of the hot chocolate color of Wes' eyes. 

Tycho did as he was commanded. He was far better at taking orders than Wedge. Though, Wedge had never tried making him hold back his ejaculation like it was a proton torpedo launch at some capitol ship in a battle. That had been surprisingly, and disturbingly, erotic. He would remember it for future encounters. 

Wedge worked with the dildo, and when he felt Wes relax, he grabbed for the big one. "Wes, I'm going to put the large one in. I'll do it very slowly. Tycho keep up the distractions, and if you feel pain, Wes, you say the safe word, alright?"

They waited until Wes broke the kiss and replied, "Right. Okay. Just do it already." 

Tycho grunted, "Patience."

"I can feel your enormous cock leaking on my belly, Celchu." His face twisted up and he bit his lip as Wedge spread him wide and speared him on the black synth-flesh monster, a centimeter at a time until Wes was panting and groaning. "Oh, boy," he sighed. "How much did you get into me?" He asked Wedge. 

In response, Wedge drew the dildo back out, in a long, slow dragging motion. "Nearly all the way. Impressive."

"The salve has a numbing agent and a few other good things in it," Tycho told them. "He's doing well?"

Wedge gave them a grin that made him look like the horny teen he'd been when they'd met him. "So many unexpected talents in our Wes. I wonder what else he can take into his bottom."

"We will find out," Tycho assured him.

"As long as we don't scare him off.""Nope. Not scared. I'm empty, though." 

Wedge put the toy back in, a little more quickly this time and before they knew it Wes was pushing eagerly back against Wedge's thrusts. Wedge pulled the toy out one final time and gave Wes a pat on his lovely bottom. "What a good bottom," he teased. "So willing to accept what we give it. I think Wes is ready, Tych."

"Yes!" Tycho cried. "MY turn." One final kiss, and he scrawled off of Wes and exchanged places with Wedge. The cock ring was unsnapped and tossed across the room to bounce off the side wall. "Oh, Sithspit. I won't last long the first time, Wes, but if you turn the electro-stim up after the first time, I doubt I'll even have a minute where I'm soft."

"Oh, ooooh," Wes breathed, taking slow deep breaths and letting the air hiss from between his clenched teeth for the first few thrusts. Eyes closing, he squirmed on the invading organ, clenching as it slid deep into him, and then drew out to leave him feeling empty and chilled. "More."

Tycho leaned over to kiss him. "Such an impatient lover." Kiss. "I'm trying so hard not to pound you into the bed." Kiss. "Don't encourage me." Kiss. "Please." Kiss.

Wes would not be discouraged, "Harder, faster, more..."

"Okay, baby, I'll give it to you. Just promise me I'm going to know if you hurt."

"Promise."

Tycho filled Wes as far as he could and started moving steadily in slow motions with firm pumps of his hips. "Oh, yessss. You feel so good, Wes. So tight and perfect inside. I'm gonna make you hotter." He hooked his arms under Wes' legs and drew him up, changing the angle of entry just enough to allow him to get another centimeter or two. They both moaned and goosebumps covered them at this change. 

Wedge was there, now, watching them with undisguised pleasure, heated desire burning in his eyes.

"Make Tycho come on command," Wes suggested, in between panting breaths. "It's hot."

The General looked at Tycho, a question in his eyes, and Tycho grunted, "Better hurry, I'm gonna spend in this paradise."

Nodding, Wedge put a hand on Tycho's shoulder and whispered in his ear, "Come, Tycho. Put that hot come into Wes. Then, I'll add mine to it."

Tycho's body bucked as his seed pumped into the man under him. It went on and on from the toy in his ass and having been teased and denied most of the day. When the last drops were wrung from him, he collapsed on top of Wes. His head resting on the other's chest, over his racing heart. 

Once his breathing returned to normal, Wes pushed at him. "Idea."

"What?" Tycho grumbled. 

Wedge laughed, eyes alight with mischief. "I think I know."

Together Wedge and Wes rolled Tycho onto his belly in the middle of the bed and Wes was on him in an instant, filling the Alderaanian's back passage to the hilt with his cock. 

For his part, Wedge entered Wes from behind. And when he thrust, it pushed Wes balls deep into Tycho. 

"Oh, Force," Wes hissed. "It's like I can't tell where I stop and you start. Wedge is fucking both of us, using me to fuck you." He gasped, "Can you feel him?"

"OH. Oh yeah."Wedge hummed in pleasure. "We've never done this. Oh, I really like this. Wes as my sex toy."

"Are we crushing Tycho?"

"I'm good. Oh, Sithpit, I'm better than good. This is without a doubt the best sex I've ever had, and it's our Kriffing first date...."

Wes agreed, "Think how amazing it will be when we've had some practice!!"

Wedge whimpered, "So wet. Tycho must have had liters of semen stored up."

"Yes."

"I can't have him filling you up and not add my own... can I?"

Wes let out a laugh, "No, of course, not. Everything is a competition." He came first, so turned on with the heat around him and inside him at the same time. 

"Coming... " Wedge sighed, just seconds before Wes let out a moan. 

Tycho was achingly hard, again, and he was on Wedge before he'd even pulled out of Wes. "Time to give you a taste of your own medicine, Antilles." A quick swipe of lube for his cock, a tug on the cord to remove Wedge's toy and he was fucking Wedge into Wes. 

Wes thumbed the remote and Tycho cried out, the stimulation more than he could handle. "Oh, Force. Force. Force. Emperor's Black Kriffing bones." A dozen thrusts, then another dozen, and Tycho was releasing with a bellow of triumph. "Yes."

The three of them collapsed in a heap of sweaty limbs and sated bodies. 

"Are we dead?" Wes moaned, a hand over his eyes stop the sweat from stinging them.

"Maybe?"

"I think my head exploded," Tycho whimpered.

"Your cock certainly did," Wedge teased him. 

Tycho reached behind him and pulled the now quiet and still toy out. "This is a good toy, Wes."

"Well worth the credits..." Wes agreed.

"I feel soo sleepy," Wedge confessed. "But we're an unholy mess..."

"Hush, Wedge. Sleep, now. Shower, later," Wes instructed. His own breathing growing slower and more even. 


	11. Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter takes care of a few things, including Wes.

Wes woke to the sound of a shower running. Moving most of his body proved... problematic. 

In slumber, Wedge stretched out across his chest and his leg was over Wes'. Pressing a kiss to the top of the other man's head, he tried to shift and discovered an array of stiff muscles and a few places which hurt. Not stabbing agony, just noticeable aches. 

"Sleep," Wedge muttered, groggily. 

"No, Wedgie, it's time to wakey and shower all the dried semen off of us."

Wedge's eyes remained stubbornly closed, but his mouth worked enough to tip up at the corners in smug contentment. 

Wes rolled them with a grunt of supreme effort. "Oh, whoa." Sitting up caused a cascade of new aches and complaints from his body. "My arm was asleep underneath you."

Tycho came through the archway, "Oh, good. You're awake." 

"I'm awake, and so is Wedge, he's faking."

Tycho nodded, "Wedge, it's 0530. Time to get breakfast and take Wes home, so he can have some sleep where you aren't trying to smother him." 

It worked, as Wedge popped up and stretched, blinking owlishly at them. 

"Is anyone else... sore?" Wes asked. "Or is it just me?"

Tycho nodded, "I have a few spots, like my ass. And someone bit me on the shoulder, but it's not as bad as the bruise you're forming on your neck. Oops. Sorry."

"You're not." Wes touched his neck and glared. It was in a place his normal clothing wasn't going to cover, and therefore, would be visible for all the Rogues to see.

Tycho laughed, running fingers through his hair. "No, I'm not."

"Group shower?" Wedge asked, hopefully.

"Yes."

"No sex. Please. No more..." Wes whimpered.

Wedge eyed him with growing alarm. "Did we hurt you?"

"I'm going to have trouble sitting, I think, but it's just an ache."

"We can take care of that," Tycho assured him. "I found a rylca salve designed for anal sex in the bathroom. It had a note from Targeter. I won't repeat what she said."

Wedge cringed, "Uh oh."

"Mostly disparaging comments about using penis power instead of brain power."

Wedge laughed out loud. "She really knows us."

"Right. She ordered us leave Wes' backside alone for at least forty-eight hours, as well, once we apply the rylca."

Everyone piled into the cavernous shower and they took turns making sure each was thoroughly clean from head to toes and all parts in between. Tycho put the ointment in all of them, saving most of the expensive healing agent for Wes as his need for healing was greatest.

They ate breakfast at a tap-caf near Wes' apartment, his suggestion, in companionable silence. All three Rogues were still dazed and moved in a virtual haze from their night together and the weight of the week they'd had taking it's toll. 

"So as far as first dates go..." Wes started. 

Tycho looked up at him from under his lashes, a slow twitching at the corners of his mouth as he struggled not to smile and eventually failed completely to keep his amusement under wraps. "Yes, Wes?"

Finally, Wes managed to asked, "Well, where are we?"

"We're in a tap-caf," Tycho deadpanned.

"Great. Sex makes him think he's a comedian."

"What are you asking, really, Wes?" Wedge soothed.

Wes sipped some caf and waved the nearly empty mug at them, "Are we okay?"

"Wes, we're great. Never been better." He looked to Tycho, who nodded his agreement. "See."

To Tycho, Janson said, "They all know about us."

"Yes, they know." The Colonel agreed, with a small resigned sigh. "If anyone has an issue with my personal life, or yours for that matter, they can take it up with me."

"I didn't see anyone who wasn't happy for us," Wedge remarked. "The usual razzing is to be expected."

To Tycho, Wes asked, "Can I prank you, now?"

"You always could."

Wedge nodded, "Tycho felt left out."

"Really?" Wes' eyes widened in surprise.

"Just be ready for payback, of course."

"Oh, sure."

Wedge chuckled, grinning like a madman. "Can't wait to start a few pools on this one. Tycho is like a prank virgin. Who will get Tycho first? Wes or one of the other Rogues? So many bets to place..."

"Laugh it up, Antilles," Wes grunted. "You're not as near at hand, anymore, but it doesn't mean we can't get you. Don't go feeling all safe."

"Wes is right, General." Then, Tycho turned his attention back to Wes, "The most important question is: how are you with all of this stuff this morning, Wes?" Tycho asked, concern creasing his forehead.

"I don't feel like I'm in shock, anymore. I think the sex fixed that. It's weird. I'm not jealous, either. Sex fixed that, too. If anything, I'm worried about how your relationship will work, now, and a little concerned about how to top last night."

"Who says we need to top last night?" 

"Right. If anything, we need to cut the thrusters and slow down."

Wes heaved a great relieved sigh, and nodded, "Please. And could we maybe reserve the threesome dates for special occasions. It's a tad overwhelming."

"Yes, of course," Wedge agreed. 

"Is it bad to want to avoid the Wraiths for a while?"

"Perfectly normal reaction to the Wraiths," Tycho assured him with a sympathetic pat on the arm and a chuckle.

Wes winced. "You didn't pick an XO."

The Alderaanian turned the ice blue stare on him expectantly, and when Wes was stubbornly silent, he shrugged, "I came up with a solution."

"While we were having sex?"

"In the shower, actually."

Wes wrinkled his nose. "Are you going to tell me?"

"Be at the briefing tomorrow morning and you'll find out."

"Fine," Wes sighed and the sigh turned into a stifled yawn.

Wedge set his mug down and stood. "Time to get you to your apartment and tucked into bed."

"Yes," Wes agreed after another yawn. 

They let him off at the lobby level after an exchange of hugs and kisses, and Wes made his way to his apartment in a kiss drunk haze that lasted all the way to him shedding his clothing and climbing into bed. Oblivion was quick to swallow him up. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

Wes was dozing the late afternoon hours away on the couch when his door chime sounded. He stood and stretched his back, then slowly made his way to the door. 

It slid open to reveal Winter. 

Wes blinked at her in all her glorious beauty and poise and his mouth went dry. He'd hoped to have a few days before she appeared to destroy him, but obviously not.

"Wes?"

"Lady Winter."

"I brought you dinner." She hefted a large bag, and the smell of the food made his stomach grumble. He stepped back to let her in. "Sorry. Please come in. Can I get you something to drink?""I also brought some wine."Wes nodded, "Oh, okay. I'll get a couple of wine glasses."

Winter followed him into the apartment. "Wedge is right, this is a nice place. Very unexpected for a career fighter pilot."

"I like it."

She set the bag on the low rectangular table and ran a hand over the seat of the nerf hide couch. "You have excellent taste."

"Thank you," Wes said, as he handed her the wine glasses and his bottle opener.

"How are you feeling?" 

Wes shrugged. "I'm good." 

"Uh huh. How are you handling Wedge's sudden departure, Tycho being promoted to Commander and learning at the worst possible time from a bunch of well meaning, if completely misguided Wraiths, that Wedge and Tycho are lovers and have been lovers for as long as you have known them?"

Blowing out a breath, Janson really wanted to sit, but he waited for Winter to sit first. "I'm processing all of that."

"How are you feeling as you process?" There was no condemnation in her expression or voice, only genuine concern. 

"I'm exhausted," Wes confessed. "Everything is moving at lightspeed and I feel like my inertial compensators are on the fritz. I keep getting thrown back against a wall as everything spins like a stuffed Ewok on an amusement park thrill ride."

"I can imagine," she nodded, looking him over, and sighing, "My presence here. I'm making you uncomfortable."

Wes tried to smile and deny it, but he failed miserably. "Are you angry with me?"

"Why in the world would I be mad at you? You're the last person responsible for anything this week, and all of this should have been handled differently for your sake. Wedge and Tycho hurt you, unintentionally, but it could have been easily avoided if either of them had stopped to consider your feelings for even a minute. I'm sorry, Wes. Truly."

"You don't want to have me killed for sleeping with your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriends," Winter corrected him. "And no, I'm happy beyond words the whole Sabaac tournament fiasco actually managed to get you together, where you belong."

"You aren't monogamous."

"No, I'm not."

"You have a girlfriend."

"Yes, I do."

"it's not the Princess, is it?" 

"No, Wes. Leia is like a sister to me. My girlfriend is someone I met through work." 

Wes nodded, "Am I allowed to say I think that's really hot?"

"I suppose I will allow you to imagine we're hot together, but you should see us for yourself before you make a final judgement." She opened the food containers. "I didn't know what you like, so I got a few different things Wedge thought you might enjoy. Take whatever you want. I ate at Wedge's place when I was there a little while ago."

Wes met her eyes. "Did you kill him?"

"No. I showed tremendous restraint and didn't kill either of them."

"Tycho was there, too?"

"Yes. Does it make you feel jealous?"

"No. I'm glad they're spending time together. They should." Wes eyed her, chewing a bite, then swallowing. "Why do you sound like a medic? The ones who poke around in our thoughts and feelings and make sure we aren't too crazy to fly..."

"Technically, I suppose I am. I've had some formal medical training, during my time with the rebellion, and I preferred the psychology classes to anatomy and physiology. I can handle basic field medicine in a crisis, the reason I took the classes in the first place, but to be honest, I'm not a fan of blood." She grinned at his expression and added, "I stopped by tonight to check on your emotional well being after your first date, deliver you some dinner, and also to check on your... injuries."

Wes jolted. She wanted to check his sex related injuries? Oh, no. No no no no no. Winter was not touching his arse.

"I'm fine," Janson assured her quickly.

"It's not that I don't believe you, Wes." She poured herself a glass of wine and took a sip. "Tell you what. If you can sit down, right now, without wincing, I will drink this glass of wine and leave you in peace."

"And if I can't?" Wes yelped. 

"Wes. Then, I let you eat your dinner, while I enjoy this delicious wine, and then we go into your bedroom and I apply more rylca ointment to the parts of your body my careless, impatient Rogues injured." She watched him, expectantly as he sat and when he did wince, she poured herself a bit more wine, and sat down on the couch beside him.

"I can say no."

"You could..." Winter told him. "But, I can make it feel really nice if you don't say no."

"You really want to touch... my...?!"

"Yes, very much in fact." Winter offered him a serene smile. "I've heard many good things about your backside from Wraith squadron."

Wes let that go, and asked a question which had been bothering him since last night, "How come you gave Wedge and Tycho swipe cards to Darkmatter Alley and not me?"

"If you show up at Darkmatter without a partner, or at least some back-up, I can promise you're going to be mobbed by hordes of Rogue groupies."

"NRI agent Rogue groupies or regular Rogue groupies?"

Winter sighed, setting her wine on the table and moving to take his hand and kiss his knuckles. "Both. Now, please, eat."

The food was great. The wine was better, and after the second glass, he forced himself to stop. "Early briefing tomorrow," He explained at her curious look.

"Ah, yes."

"Did he tell you what he's doing about the XO spot?"

Winter arched an elegant eyebrow at him. "You want me to break a confidence?"

"Never mind..." He grumbled.

Winter laughed, and it was a sound which matched up perfectly with the rest of her loveliness. "I'd probably tell you, if Sel told me, but he didn't. He was too busy sleeping." Caressing his cheek, she asked, "Maybe you can answer a question for me... Why is it Rogues only have two speeds, lightspeed and unconscious? I figure if anyone can puzzle out the answer it's you."

"You mean it's possible to operate at sub-light speeds?" Wes teased her.

Rolling her eyes heavenward, Winter grumbled, "I guess that answers the question."

"I asked them to slow down, and to save the threesomes for special occasions," Wes blurted out. 

"Good. I'm glad you're establishing boundaries."

"Face said it would be important, because they are naturally so... bossy."

"And you are naturally inclined to accept their orders without question."

"Face's orders, too, it seems."

"No," Winter told him sternly. "Tell Loran to back off and maybe approach again in six months or so," she suggested, helpfully. "If he questions, explain to him your plate is rather full. If that doesn't dissuade him, tell Face your jealous boyfriends will beat the stuffing out of him and whatever is left of him will have to deal with me."

It was Wes' turn to burst into laughter. "That will scare the Sithspit out of him."

"Good. I've dealt with Captain Loran before. He knows better than to cross me."

With a whistle, Wes breathed, "Scary hot. Just like Tycho."

"You haven't seen me get scary, yet. I can't wait to get the Wraiths in for their next briefing with me. They aren't going to like it."

"Uh, oh."

"Yeah. That sums it up nicely." She winked at him. "Some of them are getting another round with the medics. They hiss and spit like feral street-cats when they get sent for psych sessions."

"Wait, Winter. Please, don't punish Tyria. She was only trying to help us. I don't think she has any idea how to control any of the woo woo Force mumbo jumbo."

"What if I just stuff that girl into a shipping container and have Mirax Terrik deposit her at the Jedi Academy on Yavin 4?"

Wes' eyes widened in horror. "You would do that?"

"No, probably not, but it's definitely tempting. I would put air holes for breathing and include a stack of ration bars, of course." She gave him a meaningful look, "I'll remind you of this conversation the next time Tyria Sarkin and her compatriots start meddling in your love life because of the Force."

With a contented sigh, Wes closed up the take away containers and shot a questioning look at Winter. She gave a slight shake of her head and nodded in the direction of his food refrigeration unit. He put the food away and found her at the door leading into his bedroom. "This is... awkward."

"Would you get on your knees for me, if I commanded you to?"

"Probably."

She walked through the doorway into this bedroom, and once he was inside, Winter looked him up and down, tapping her lower lip in thought. When she spoke, it was a command, "Take your clothes off."

Wes reached for the hem of his shirt and drew it over his head, then he untied his lounging around pants and let them slip over his hips and down his legs. He wasn't wearing anything under. 

Winter circled him and stopped abruptly behind Wes, her hand shot to her mouth in surprise and she gasped, "Oh, dear." 

Under her hand, Wes could hear her emitting the vague sounds of stifled giggles. 

"Which one of them spanked you?"

Wes winced, "Both of them, why?"

Lady Winter took his arm and tugged him into the refresher off his bedroom and turned his wide shoulders until he was mostly facing away from the mirror, and then she turned his head so he could see the visible shape of a hand print on his right buttock in the reflection.

"OH. Sithspawn. Which one of them left a hand print on me?"

With a sigh, she tugged him back into the bedroom and pointed Wes at the rumpled bed. "For the record, this is a medical visit. I'm not here for sex. Get on the bed, Janson, and let me fix you."

"Can you get the handprint off of me?"

The girlfriend of his two new lovers gave a small giggle, before she coughed and cleared her throat. "No."

"I bet you could. You just like it."

"I think Wedge and Tycho played too rough, but I'm not going to deny I find the situation humorous and more than a little erotic." She followed him over to the bed and helped Wes adjust pillows until he was comfortably lying face down. "I'm very tempted take a holo and send it to them demanding to know which man's hand matches this mark."

"It's probably Wedge. Or maybe we should call him General Spanky. He was using much more force than Tycho."

Wes gave a sigh.

"What have you learned?" 

Wes had to admit Winter had a wonderful stern teacher voice. "Lots of things." He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned, "Next time, I won't be cuffed to a kriffing wall. They'll get it back in spades."

"Good boy." Winter removed a tube and a long thin applicator cap from her jacket pocket and prepared the rylca. Then, she set it aside and drew out a small bottle of massage oil from the other pocket. Applying the oil to her hands to warm it, she spoke in a quiet, soothing tone. "I'm going to massage your handprint and the rest of your bottom. If you are a good boy, I might even move down to your cock and balls for a bit. Once I feel you are relaxed enough, I will tell you when I want you to hold still and I will tell you when to move. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

True to her word, Winter massaged Wes gently and thoroughly until he resembled a puddle of melted candle wax, then she expertly put the medicine in his bottom without so much as a single wince or hiss of pain, as it should be. This was far from the first time she'd needed to take care of an overused bottom. Just the first time the bottom wasn't someone she was already in a relationship with. 

In addition to having a sexy, wonderful bottom, Wes Janson was himself a lovely trusting 'bottom'. She couldn't remember ever meeting a submissive who took to trusting his pleasure to another so easily and naturally. 

The sounds of soft snores made Winter smile. She covered Wes with the sheet and blankets and left him a note on the bedside table with instructions not to have sex for 48 hours, or she would be the one spanking him. 

Winter made sure everything was in order in Wes' apartment before she left, including making him some griddle cakes and fresh squeezed juice and tucking them into the refrigeration unit for his breakfast in the morning. It made her happy to take care of her lovers, even if they weren't technically her lover, yet. She had no doubt he would be.

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"You're here early," Hobbie commented, smirking.

Wes knew he was smiling like a moron, but he couldn't care enough to make it stop. "I had the most wonderful sleep last night. Almost made me forget..." He looked around and made sure they were the only ones in the corridor in front of the briefing room before turning his datapad over to Hobbie. "Take a look at the second holo."

Hobbie shrugged and then inhaled sharply in shock as his eyes scanned the holoimage on the screen, "Whoa. Is that you? Is that your..."

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't know..."

"When?"

"At Darkmatter, obviously."

"When did you take this holo?"

"This Kriffing morning."

"The handprint is still there?"

Wes nodded, "I took the holo of it and sent a copy to each of them."

"I think you should storm the Colonel's office and demand to see if his hand matches the print."

Janson nodded his head violently in agreement. "After the briefing."

"A short debriefing after the briefing," Hobbie chuckled, admiring his own joke. "Not that a girl couldn't leave a handprint, but this is something you maybe should have considered before taking on both Rogue CO's at once."

"When I figure it out, Hobbs, I will have revenge."

"Good." 

Other Rogues started to gather and the discussion and datapad were put away.

"Nice hickey, Major," Gavin said, biting his lip to keep from grinning. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Good morning," the CO of Rogue Squadron greeted his pilots as they filed into the amphitheater for their morning briefing. 

Wes said, "Morning, Colonel," as he brushed past, just a bit too close.

"Morning, sir," Inyri said with a cheerful smile. 

"Good morning, boss," Hobbie stated, his usual dour expression on his face, but his eyes assessing.

Nodding as they took their seats, Tycho was satisfied everyone was accounted for, and nobody looked particularly hungover, groggy or out of sorts. "A few things to start the briefing off." He walked to the side table and collected some file folders, then placed the stack of folders in front of Kilvian. 

"Hey, what's this?" The dour faced pilot gasped, suspicious and alarmed.

A pleased grin spread across Tycho's face. "Paperwork: Requisitions, supply manifests, maintenance schedules and various other tedious forms I don't feel like doing for even one more day. Have at them, Hobbie, and may the Force be with you." 

Then, the Colonel placed a much larger stack in front of Janson. "Oh, whoa, wait a minute. What is all that?" Wes shot him a look of panic.

His smile turned wicked. "Personnel files." 

"Just how many are in that mountain?" Wes eyed the tidy folders as if they might leap off the table and try to bite his face off.

"Fifty-four."

"What precisely am I supposed to do with them, boss?"

"You're selecting the new monkey-lizard for our zoo, of course."

The Rogues gave a collective gasp. 

At Wes' shocked and horrified expression, Tycho smirked and nodded to the stack. "I need you to have the pilot candidates narrowed to around a dozen by the end of this week, so we can line up interviews for next week."

"Why me?" Janson's expression settled into stoic blankness, and his voice held only a hint of a pout.

"In the absence of willing volunteers, I've decided to divide the XO duties, for now. Starting today, I'm putting team Klivison to the task. The pair of you have proven you are very good at this sort of work, and I have every confidence in you both. We wouldn't want to let such valuable skillsets go underutilized."

Hobbie's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why does Wes get the fun job and I get all the drudge work?" Hobbie whined.

"Simple. Your handwriting is legible."

Klivian turned on Wes. "You did this, somehow. I know you. I don't like you."

"You'll have the backlog cleared out in three days tops, Hobbs. Me? I've got fifty-four pilots to vape."

"Want to get out of the job?" Tycho asked, seriously. "Train us up a replacement XO. Then, you two are free." He added, "The other Rogues should benefit more from your knowledge and experience. If any of you are interested in assisting the Majors with their duties, you are welcome to follow them around and pick their brains."

Tycho placed a single thick folder before Myn Donos. "Donos."

"Sir?"

"For the record, and as future reference for all of you, there is paperwork involved when a pilot in Starfighter Command gets married. Right, Horn?"

Corran flinched, and turned slightly green, "Lots of paperwork."

Nodding, Tycho continued, "And there is even more paperwork when a marriage flames out. Do us both a favor, Myn, and do your best not to screw it up." The Corellian's mouth worked. "Uh..." Tycho gave him a pat on the back. "I was mostly teasing. Congratulations, Myn. I'm very happy for you."

Myn looked like an Ewok caught in the headlamp of an oncoming speeder bike. "I... uh."

"It's okay. I'm fine with Rogues having their secrets, even wives whose identities are a complete mystery to me." Tycho shrugged. "Your personal life is your business." He looked around at all the Rogues. "And I would appreciate the same respect for my personal life. If you happen to find me attractive, please try to restrain your sighs and giggles until I've left the room." 

His smirk was aimed at Inyri and Rhysati, but it was Wes who said, "We'll try, Colonel." And then Wes did a perfect imitation of one of Rhysati's giggles. She stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation.

Tycho rolled his eyes and shook his head. "New rules... If anyone mentions the Hoth Protocol in my hearing, they are automatically assigned two weeks of kitchen duty."

"We can just say orgy instead," Corran quipped.

"I can see tubers in your future, Horn, and I don't even need the Force."

Gavin, adorable as ever, raised his hand. "What if we don't mention the unmentionable thing, but we are involved in the unmentionable thing?"

Tycho pinched the bridge of his nose, like Wedge tended to do when the pilots were making him regret getting out of bed in the morning. It didn't help. "Gavin was such a good kid when he joined this squadron. He was an innocent, just off his momma's apron strings" His mock glare was spread to all the pilots. "It was easy to forget he was a teenage human male until you lot got ahold of him."

"I'm still a teenage human male," Gavin protested. 

"Don't remind me. If you are bored and looking for a place to have sex, Darklighter, that's what your apartment, also known as the place where you sleep and eat other than on this base, is for."

Wes raised a hand and waved it excitedly. "Yes! Thank you. Now, can you explain to him days off are for not coming here?"

The Colonel nodded, happy to oblige. "New concept: Outside interests. These are often activities designed to take you outside this complex. Take a class. Go visit a museum. Something," he sighed, dramatically. "New rule: I want all of you to repeat after me... No sex on base."

The Rogues dutifully complied, but there were plenty of stifled giggles and grins hidden behind hands.

"I have a feeling I'm gonna need to start a pool for other basic topics which may need to be covered in our briefings. Submit the ideas to Janson. Winner gets a two day pass to a place far away from us."

"Yes!" Hobbie gave Wes a high five. "I'm so winning this."

"Paperwork," Tycho told him, causing his expression to fall. 

To Wes, he waved a hand at the personnel files and grunted, "Pilots."

"The General has asked to borrow the rest of you for some assignments this afternoon. After the afternoon mystery briefing, please report back here."

"Do we get a hint?" Asyr asked. 

"No. Wedge is being very secretive."

"I love mysteries," Rhysati said. 

"All will be revealed at the briefing this afternoon," Tycho promised.


	12. Actions Speak Louder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedge's first official act as aide to Admiral Ackbar. Wes discovers Tycho's big mistake, and must take advantage. Wedge wins the betting pool.

"I didn't even know we had this many pilots on base right now," Gavin told Asyr. 

The Bothan was scanning the milling crowds entering the amphitheater with interest. "I think that group is Corsair. And the bunch there is Polearm, next to the Novas." 

They watched the pilots filling past. "And that is..."

"Gauntlet," Hobbie added, helpfully, from her other side. "I haven't seen any of them in ages."

"Huh. They don't look like babies, anymore." Wes studied them, thoughtfully. "Still shiny, though."

"They've seen action," Asyr defended them to their former instructor.

"Yes, yes. I know. I pay attention to their exploits, of course. That's how I know they are shiny. Not one of them has been reprimanded for anything."

"How sad..." Hobbie tsked at them. "Did we forget to teach them about fun?"

Gavin looked at Wes. "Shiny means well behaved and by the book?"

"Yes. And boring, too."

"Am I shiny?"

"No, Gavin, not you. You've become... quite interesting." 

"No," Asyr told Wes firmly. "No. No. No."

"Spoilsport."

"Teaching him to be a prankster will not endear him to those who can mentor him and guide his future career."

Wes blew out a breath and patted Gavin's arm, "Sorry, kid."

"Don't I get a say in what will and won't help my future career?"

"No." Wes and Asyr both stated, in perfect unison.

The young Rogue pouted. "Why not?" 

"One: Asyr is female, meaning she is always right, even when you don't think she is right. Two: she is a Bothan, meaning she thinks way more about ranks and careers and boring political stuff than anyone ever should."

Asyr grinned at Janson. "That is the most insightful thing you have ever uttered."

"I have my moments," Wes told her. 

"May I have your attention, please?" Wedge called from the podium in the center of the packed amphitheater. 

The standing room only crowd quieted and he let them wait for a few moments in hushed anticipation. 

"Thank you," the General began. "As many of you know, I recently left my position as Commanding Officer of Rogue Squadron to accept a posting as an aide to Admiral Ackbar. One of the main reasons I stopped fighting the promotion is because I can see the need for stronger communication and better ties between the government of the New Republic, the military leadership, and the forces actually doing the fighting. Governments function in terms of mathematical equations, cost benefit analysis and fiscal responsibility. 

"We have our own brand of math in Starfighter Command. Wins and losses are calculated not solely in terms of ships destroyed and munitions used, but also just as importantly, in terms of lives cost and lives saved. Too many times in the recent past, I have been privy to meetings where I left feeling like a disposable item. Something which non-military minds see as expendable and quickly replaced. I never want it to be said any of the people in this room are canon fodder. We are not a commodity to be traded for power. We aren't so easily replaced, and that brings me to the crux of why we are here. 

"It's come to my attention over the years just how important a steady supply of well trained pilots is to the New Republic, and more importantly, to us. Do most people in the New Republic know how much training it takes to get a new recruit to the seat you are occupying right now? No, I don't believe they do. We've come from being rebels, with nothing but what we could beg, borrow or steal for the Rebel Alliance and built the New Republic with the lives and deaths of our pilots. We take it for granted if one our people is sacrificed in battle another will come along to fill the slot in the roster, but what if that wasn't the case?

"If we didn't have pilot trainers across the galaxy shaping the raw materials they are given into fighter pilots, the whole system would break down very quickly. We take the work of pilot trainers granted, and I will be the first to admit it. It's time we recognized our instructors for the vital and valuable resource they have always been. For all they have given to us, at the very least, we need to recognize their contributions and hold them up as the indispensable heroes they are. We need to look at the system as a whole and be certain going forward that teaching is not a thankless job.

"To that end, my first official act as aide to our military leadership was to point out the lack of consideration for the flight instructors to Admiral Ackbar. He not only agreed whole heartedly, it was his decision to speak on my behalf to the Head of State and present her with our solution. I am pleased to announce the day after tomorrow is officially New Republic Pilot Trainer Appreciation Day."

"Did Wedge just create a New Republic holiday... for us?" Wes murmured, to himself more than anyone else.

"I think he did, and kinda for himself, too?" Hobbie agreed, perplexed and a little wary.

Any other comments they might have made were lost in a sea of cheers and foot stomping. 

An arm came out of nowhere to hook Wes around the neck from behind. "You deserve a special day!" A kiss smacked against his cheek and Wes fought the urge to shrug Inyri off. Before he could strangle, she moved on and repeated the maneuver on Hobbie who was more proactive and turned his head, so what would have been a cheek kiss landed square on his lips, and their lips stuck for a long moment before she pulled back, smiling and patting his cheek. 

Hobbie blinked a few times, before sighing, "Mmmmm. Her lips taste like berries."

"Your cheers are appropriate," Wedge told his audience, "but don't you agree we can do better?"

"Party?" Wes mumbled hopefully. 

Wedge continued, "There will be a formal ceremony honoring our trainers in the afternoon, and then a reception will follow."

"Fancy expensive party," Corran confirmed. "Way to go, Wedge."

Hobbie looked at Wes, "Presents?"

"How should I know? I've never had someone give me a holiday before..."

"Yes," Asyr stated. "There MUST be presents." She caught Gavin's eye, nodding, "We need to go shopping."

"He's going to pull off a reception with one day advance notice?" Wes asked, dubiously.

"You shouldn't doubt us, Major," Gavin told him.

"Am I allowed to be a little skeptical?"

"No," Asyr agreed with Gavin. "You just go read your pilot files and leave everything to us, sir."

When the briefing was dismissed, Wedge headed across the auditorium in their direction. Wes smirked at him, filled with playful humor. "Who knew Generals could create holidays? It's a pretty impressive feat. I can see your Corellian ego is all puffed up from over here."

Wedge advanced on him, a smirk of his own teasing his lips. "I didn't do this for me, Major." He leaned in and whispered in Wes' ear. "This is for you, because you've worked hard and earned it." 

His lips may have strayed a little too close, brushing the shell of Wes' ear as he emphasized the word 'hard' and pulled away, making a tingle go through Wes and down to the part of him Wedge seemed to control without even trying.

"Ah, but it does include you, too," the Major persisted, as he tried to regain control of his traitorous body from Wedge's teasing. He would make Wedge pay for that later, of course. How dare he try to get him all worked up in front of an audience of what seemed like hundreds of pilots, most of which he knew personally. 

"Marginally, yes. I've trained squadrons, but in this case it was not really my intention to draw recognition to myself."

Tycho found them and he looked almost as smug as Wes felt. "Nice work, General, and a complete surprise. Would re-forming the Rogues with you count me in?"

Wedge nodded, "You count, and them some, you trained the Rogues while piloting an unarmed shuttle, under constant guard."

"And yourself..." The Colonel' smile lit with pure amusement.

"I count, too." Wedge looked pointedly at Wes and Hobbie. "They count most. The Majors' are the reason I did this. Training new pilots and squadrons is something we should have recognized years ago."

Tycho looked the two men over, and tapped his chin thoughtfully, before saying, "If they were Corellians, I'd be worried about out of control egos."

Wes nodded, eyes glittering with delight. "I said this."

The Colonel gave Wes a pat on the arm. "You do deserve it, Wes. Absolutely." He gave a similar pat to Hobbie who eyed them and grunted under his breath, "No kissing." This made Tycho roll his eyes. 

Hobbie's eyes narrowed in suspicion, at them. "No sex on base," he reminded Wes under his breath.

"What?" Wedge asked.

"Nothing, just a new rule from the new boss," Hobbie told Wedge. "Thanks for the holiday, Wedge. I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got all of Colonel Celchu's paperwork to do." He gave Tycho a squinty eyed look and saluted them and disappeared.

Wedge looked at the two remaining Rogues. "Early dinner in the Officer's mess?" he asked hopefully.

"Can't," Wes told him, lower lip stuck out. "I've got work to do, too. Lots of work." He saluted them and slipped into the crowd. 

"The other's are meeting us in our usual briefing room. How are we going to pull all this off in one day?" Tycho wondered aloud.

"We have help," Wedge assured him. "The Wraiths are going to meet us, too. And I've been making some interesting connections in the Admiral's staff. His people put on last minute events for visiting dignitaries all the time."

They walked with the flow of bodies to the briefing room, chatting about nothing important and just enjoying the together time.

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Why are you crashed on MY couch? In MY office?" Tycho asked Janson, who was stretched out with a stack of folders on his chest. "You should be getting ready for the ceremony. I saw an aide with a cart of dress uniforms down the hall."

Wes frowned and put a finger to his lips. "Shhh. I'm hiding."

"Why?" Tycho crossed to him and sat on the edge of the couch near Wes' hip and took the stack of personnel folders away from him and tossed them on his desk.

"You remember the part in Wedge's speech about running out of trained pilots and basically the world ending?"

Tycho nodded, "Yes. I remember."

"Welcome to Armageddon, Colonel, boss, sir. I've scanned through three quarters of the personnel file mountain and I'm thinking of doing a cost benefit analysis on using real Kowakian monkey-lizards as pilots."

The Colonel chuckled, amused at the idea. "Come on, Wes, it can't be as dire as all that."

"So far, I have five. FIVE. And no hope. My hope flamed out about an hour ago."

Leaning over to place a kiss on Wes' lips, Tycho grinned. "Pessimism is so not like you."

"Ha. Hobbie's the one who's supposed to make the disparaging comments about the candidates. I'm the guy who rides to the rescue and points out the few, if any, redeeming qualities," Wes grumbled.

"I have an idea. Don't move. I'll be right back." Tycho stood and hurried out into the corridor. A few minutes later, he returned with both his and Wes' dress uniforms. "If we hurry, we could shower and change in here. I have a nice hot water shower in my refresher." Wes didn't look at him, until Tycho added with a wink, "Shower sex would make you feel better."

This brought Wes upright and turning to face the Colonel. "You wanna have sex? In your office?"

"Well, yeah. I suggested it, didn't I?"

"Now?"

"Right now," Tycho assured him. He pulled Wes up with his free hand and pushed the big man in the direction of the 'fresher. "Strip."

"Can you still give me orders if we are about to get naked and soapy?"

The blue eyes flashed, "Just watch me."

Wes was stripped to his boxers in record time. "Hey, Tycho, I have a question."

"Make it a fast question."

"Why is there a bed in your storage closet?" It was a valid question and he'd asked the same of Wedge when he'd seen the cot in the small storage room set behind the wall in his office in a small hallway past the refresher. 

Tycho shrugged, shirtless and reaching for the fastenings on his pants. "It's for late nights or quick naps. Wedge had an awful lumpy cot in there. I replaced it with something fit to sleep on."

"I just remembered something," Wes told him, coming to a complete halt just outside the shower doors.

"What now, Wes?" Tycho grumbled, impatiently.

Wes smirked at him. "No sex on base, boss."

Tycho growled, low and playfully menacing. "In." He pointed to the steamy water spray beyond the doors.

"You just caught yourself in your own orders, Colonel," Wes teased. "If I am a responsible co-XO, I cannot possibly give in to your seduction. We must maintain discipline and set good examples by following your orders to the letter."

"Please, Wes" the Colonel pleaded, reaching out to Janson imploringly. "Shower sex..."

Wes shook his head. "Nuh uh." He tapped a finger on Tycho's naked chest and refused to budge. "Admit you screwed up."

"I screwed up," Tycho admitted, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. "I didn't think it through. Now, you admit you want to have sex as much as I do right now." 

"Well, maybe, but on one or two small conditions."

Tycho emitted a strangled, impatient groan. "Anything..."

Janson's eyes grew wide. "Anything?"

"Yes."

Wes stepped closer to the other man until they were bare chest to bare chest in the small 'fresher. "I want to try out this bed with you. Soon. And I want blanket permission to crash on your couch when the pilot lounge is crowded, Hobbie is hogging the couch in our office, and I want some peace and quiet."

"Done." Tycho groaned, leaning into the solid warmth of Wes's body. "Please please please."

"Me first," Wes commanded, playfully.

"Yes!" Tycho stepped out of his remaining clothes and sprinted through the doors.

Wes followed closely behind, stalking and pinning the other man's chest against the cool, smooth stone of the shower's back wall. HIs hands shackled Tycho's wrists in an unrelenting grip. "Lube?"

"Already thought of that." He nodded at one of the bottles on the small stone shelf. "Second bottle, blue lid."

Janson barked a laugh of surprise. "Really?"

Tycho struggled, making Wes work to hold him. "No more talk." Wes moved both of the Colonel's wrists into one large hand, and made use of the lubricant to get them both slick.

"How much prep work do you need?" 

"None. Now. Innnnn...." Tycho's plea dissolved into a groan of pleasure as Wes gave him what he so desperately wanted, to be impaled on Wes' erection, stretched and filled by it. 

Wes sighed in his ear, pressing kisses to his neck. "You have to be the bossiest lover I've ever had."

Tycho pushed back against him, taking him deeper and groaning from the way the angle was prefect. "Just wait. You haven't seen anything, yet." Teeth nipped at his earlobe, sending a tremor through him. "Aaah, force." Wes' free hand, still coated with gel found Tycho's erection and he whimpered, "Uh, stop, Wes. Too close. If you stoke my cock, I won't get my turn."

"I really want to make you come like this with me inside you," Wes confessed. "I can get you up, again, don't worry. I know exactly what to do." Wes changed his grip and started pumping Tycho's cock furiously in time to the thrusts in his rear. 

"'kay," Tycho panted. "Trusting you."

Pressed against the slick length of Tycho's body, Wes didn't know if he'd ever orgasmed longer. They fit together like puzzle pieces snapped precisely into place and the other man answered his cry of release with his own low moan and Wes felt the tickle of come running over his knuckles. 

Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he licked the cream from the side of his index finger like it was a dessert, savoring it. 

Tycho would never be able to unsee what came next as Wes went to his knees and took his softened cock into his mouth, every kriffing bit of it. The dark eyes peering up at him held a message, a mix of desire and amusement. 

His mind reeled as Tycho realized the bastard thought it was funny to make him crazy with lust. Worst thing was, Wes was right. The erection was back with only a small amount of coaxing from Wes' talented tongue.

Twining his fingers in his lover's silky dark hair, Tycho tugged very gently to signal he was ready. He was released, albeit reluctantly, from the sweet confines of that smart mouth, only to be guided into someplace hotter and tighter by Wes' eager hands. 

"Oh, yes," the Alderaanian hissed. "You were right, I'm ready. You can be right any kriffing time you want. Day. Night." He wrapped his arms around the broad chest and held on tight. "Smug, too. You can be smug and self-satisfied and arrogant. Sithspit, you are hot." 

His lips pressed a line of kisses along the wet skin of Wes' shoulder in a counterpoint to his thrusts, but just as he started to move up Wes' neck, the other man grabbed his head and held it to stop him, "Nuh uh. No more love bites. I still have the last one you gave me. And now that I know you don't have the decency to make them where my clothes will hide them, you are not getting near my neck."

"Awww, but it was an accident," Tycho whined, breathing like a marathon runner. "Wedge left a hand print on your bottom... that's worse."

Wes turned his head to meet his eyes. "You are both equally in trouble," he explained. "We just haven't 'discussed' it, yet."

Tycho's hands roamed Wes' chest, fingers running through his coarse chest hair. "I'll be good. Oh. Yesss. I'll be good, really good. No marks." His forehead fell forward to rest on Wes' shoulder. 

"If you don't come soon, Colonel, you'll make us late for our award ceremony."

Tycho nuzzled his shoulder and groaned. "Next time, we go slow. We are going to take hours..." His body shuddered at the mental image of Wes straddling him and riding him, slowly, while pinning his wrists to the mattress beside his head and kissing him senseless. Biting his lip to keep from shouting, so the whole base would hear, Tycho let the orgasm carry him over the edge. 

Wes pulled away from him and turned to pull Tycho into his arms, "You make the most wonderful whimpering sounds when you come," Janson told him. 

"Trying not to scream, really wanted to scream, but then all the Rogues would know."

Hands cupped his cheeks and guided his mouth in for a kiss. "I don't care if they know," Wes confessed. "I want to shout it to the whole planet. What were you thinking about when you came so hard?"

"You riding me, pinning me under you."

Wes' eyes grew wide in surprise. "In your little office sex booth here?"

"No. At my place. On a real bed."

"Sounds like a plan."

Tycho nodded, handing Wes the cleanser. "We need to hurry." 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"This is truly impressive," Tycho murmured in Wedge's ear after the ceremony concluded. "Who knew so many people are involved in the pilot training?"

Wedge nodded. "It felt very right to bring them all into the light." He leaned into Tycho and sniffed. "You smell good. Like my shower gel."

The other man raised an eyebrow. "Do I?" 

"Did I forget a bottle in my office?"

"As a matter of fact, I did find some nice smelling cleanser gel in my shower, when I claimed the office. I threw out the lumpy old cot in the closet, though." 

Wedge nodded, "As it should be, in YOUR new office, though the couch is really too short to sleep on. Hence the cot."

Hobby and Wes walked up, both looking handsome in their dress uniforms, proud and happy. 

Wedge gave them each a back slapping hug, though he felt himself stiffen as he inhaled against the side of Wes' neck and got another hint of his favored brand of shower cleanser. 

What were the chances of them both smelling like that? Maybe, Wes borrowed the shower in Tycho's office? 

He threw a frown at Tycho, who was watching him and saw the look, then realized his error and winced guiltily.

"When do we get to the party part?" Hobby asked, eagerly.

Wedge smiled indulgently at the Major. "Soon, Derek." 

A thought occurred to Wedge, and he put an arm around Klivian's shoulders and walked him a few steps away from the other two. "Didn't I hear Tycho made a rule about no sex on base?"

"Yeah."

"When?"

"At the briefing, when he off-loaded all his XO grunt work on me."

"How many hours ago do you figure it was?"

"Why?"

Wedge grinned at him, delighted. "Because I think I just won the betting pool for how long the new Rogues' No Sex On Base rule would go unbroken."

Hobby's jaw worked a minute, and then his eyes widened at the implication of Wedge's words. "Wait, what? No. That can't be. What did you bet?"

"I took the slot for 40-45 hours, and Wes/Tycho, of course."

Hobbs gasped, and then his eyes lit with mirth. "Really? They couldn't even make it two whole days without trying out Tycho's office?!"

Wedge shook his head, laughing. "They both smell like the shower gel I left in the refresher in my old office. We really need to go razz them about it."

"Yay. More fun. This is the best day ever, boss," Klivian told him. "I love you for making us a special holiday day." 

Wedge patted his shoulder. "I hope this shows you how important you are to us, Derek. How much we need you and value your contributions."

"Oh, well, yeah. I feel the love. The brotherly sort of love, and not that..." He waved a hand at Wes and Tycho, making kissy noises.

They went back to where the other two pilots were quietly conversing, and Wedge whispered, "I'm lead."

"Right, boss. I'm on your wing."

"Gentlemen..."

Wes looked up in surprise and... nerves? "General..."

Wedge put up a hand to silence him. "No explanations necessary."

Tycho sagged, giving a discouraged grunt. "I admit it. I screwed up. I haven't even been in command a week and I've already turned myself into a hypocrite. A sex crazed hypocrite, at that."

"How badly did Janson blackmail you to get him into the shower with you?"

"Hey!" Wes protested. 

Tycho shrugged, sheepishly. "Not bad. Wes wanted first bouncing rights on the new bed I put in the closet and crashing privileges on the too short couch."

Wedge shook his head sadly at his other lover. "Wes, you let Tycho off entirely too easy. You could have held out for all sorts of concessions."

"He was begging... naked," Wes said under his breath, and gave the other Rogue a small smile. "It was really so much fun to watch him plead."

"Hey, now." Tycho looked around to see if any other pilots were close enough to overhear them. 

None were.

Hobby leaned in to whisper, "You just made Wedge a pile of credits, Colonel. He bet you couldn't make it 45 hours without sex on base after you made that rule. And, guess what... you didn't."

"Oh, kriff me sideways. They made a pool," Tycho groaned.

Wedge nodded, enjoying the other man's first razzing as the Rogues permanent commanding officer. "Of course. There had to be betting. I had very good reasons why I didn't make a rule for the squad about sex on base during my tenure. It's none of my business, as long as they don't get caught." He patted Tycho's shoulder in consolation. "I'd have been a hypocrite, too. Sex is too important. You didn't even think about your new lover, and what his needs might be going forward." 

He patted Wes on the arm, too. "Poor Wes, he's just overreacting to Gavin and the Hoth Protocol thing."

"The Colonel banned us from saying those words you said on pains of weeks of kitchen duty," Wes informed him.

"Now, that, was a smart move." Wedge grinned at Tycho. "The last thing we need is someone recording pilot orgy holo-porn and putting it out on the Holo-net."

"Eeewww," Hobby complained.

"Wes is the only one of us who would make it as a professional holo-porn star, and he'd be rich in no time and leave the Rogues to retire to a tropical island filled with scantily clad young people who worship and adore him."

"No, no, no," Tycho said, firmly.

"You think I could make myself rich as a holo-vid sex star?" Wes blinked at them, surprised.

Tycho shared a look of bewilderment with Wedge and said, "Uh, yeah."

"You should look at yourself in a mirror, sometime," Wedge instructed him.

The Colonel added, "I still have the recording Wedge sent me from the Ewok prank. You remember it, right? Where he convinced you to strip naked and smear goop all over yourself and then parade naked in front of all the Wraiths..."

"You do not."

"We should watch it together, the three of us, after the reception tonight back at my place."

"I'm in," Wedge agreed. "I love that recording. Although, my private thermal sensor camera version is so much better. Like a rainbow of naked pilot in glorious detail. I'll bring it, and some snacks." 

Wes made a strangled panic cry and hurried away in search of less teasing company, Hobby trailing after at a more sedate pace, but laughing like a lunatic.

Tycho and Wedge watched them go, and Wedge turned to his lover, "I admit, Tych, I'm jealous of the shower sex."

"You should be. It was... I'm at a loss for words to do it justice."

Wedge pouted. "I can't remember the last time we shared a shower on base."

"I'm not averse to being clean, General. My apartment even has the extra large tub with massage jets, if you'll remember."

The look of surprise on Wedge's face told him this had indeed slipped his lover's mind. "Oh, yes. I do remember the massage jets."

"I found something better than my tub." Tycho looked around, checking one more time for listeners, before he whispered, "Wes on his knees with his mouth around my..."

Wedge put his hands over his ears, humming loudly, and stalked off in the same direction the other two went.


	13. Much Appreciated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes and Hobbie have their hands full at their reception. Wes gets closure on a few things. Gifts! So many gifts. Hugs! So many hugs and kisses and a little groping thrown in for good measure.

After the food and entertainment portion of the reception, all the squadrons presented gifts to their trainers amid the festive chaos. Team Klivison sat like Princes accepting tributes at a table to themselves with an endless seeming line of pilots who wanted to offer thanks and gifts, hugs and kisses. 

Technically, Wedge and Tycho were seated at their table, too, but they'd only had Rogues and Wraiths to offer up thanks and gifts. So, the pair retreated to an adjacent table with some of the other Rogues and watched heckling Wes and Hobbie as they managed their Trainer Appreciation Day adoration. 

The pilots of Gauntlet squadron stepped forward and handed each of the Majors' a wrapped package.

Wes beamed proudly at them. "Gauntlets! Look at all of you. Wait, where is Kistri?"

"I'm here, Major." The petite redhead stepped from behind a few of the others and Wes did a double take. Her belly was huge and round from pregnancy. At their twin looks of open mouthed shock, Kistri laughed. "I'm obviously not flying, now. Like I could even hope to fit in a cockpit. I still have all the XO work, though. Making babies isn't getting me out of that, yet."

Hobbie nodded, recovering his composure somewhat. "XO paperwork is its own level of hell. I feel your pain."

"We were just talking about you, earlier," Wes admitted. "Thinking since none of you ever get on report, maybe we forgot to teach you to have fun..."

The CO of Gauntlet squadron stepped up beside their pregnant XO, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and said, "No, sir, you taught us about fun. I just set a rule that if anyone gets put on report they forfeit the next squad Hoth Protocol night."

Wes and Hobbie look at each other, jaws dropped, for the second time in minutes. 

Hobbie stammered, "Did you say..." 

Wes slapped a hand over his mouth before he uttered the forbidden words, but it was a close call. "All of you? The whole squadron?" Wes mouthed, voice a whisper. "When did that start?"

"After we were commissioned and set on our own, our second assignment they stationed us on a miserable iceball, not unlike Hoth. We were like to freeze to death, so we decided to share body heat. Snuggling turned into petting and kissing. Nobody wanted to be left out, of course. One thing led to another, and sex became a way to blow off steam and reduce everyone's stress levels. Well, we had to make some modifications to the rules after Kistri got pregnant. Had to insist we use better protection. Can't have all our female pilots off for maternity leave at once."

"So, you see," Kistri assured them. "We have plenty of fun, just not the kind we get written up for. Speaking of fun. Heard some interesting rumors going around about you, Major, from the Sabacc tourney. Did Colonel Celchu and the General really kiss you?"

Hobbie tagged Wes in the side with an elbow. "Oh, they sure did. I witnessed it in all it's sappy glory."

"Oh, good. In that case, I think you're going to love the present we picked out for you. Better open it in private, though." She nodded to Hobbie, "You can open that. Yours isn't embarrassing or risqué or anything."

Hobbie tore the wrapping his package and pulled out a sampler gift box from one of his favorite restaurants on his homeworld of Ralltiir. He beamed at them, "This is great. Thank you. I haven't been home in years." He hugged all the Gauntlets and they filed past to also hug Wes, some giving smaller individual gifts to each of them. Candy, sweets, small bottles of exotic liqueurs. They were added to the pile of gifts accumulating on the table behind them.

"Now, they have me wondering what I got." Wes tore a corner of the packaging and let out a mad chuckle. "Glad I only tore a small corner."

"What is it?"

"A sex toy. Actually, it is six separate sex toys all controlled by one remote."

Hobbie looked over at him, thoughtful, and then he turned and looked to where the squadron had returned to their tables. "It would take two sets to cover them all. I wonder who gets to have a remotes."

"I'd want that job," Wes said, grinning evilly, then his face fell. "Hey. You know what? They didn't invite us."

"Wedge would shoot them if they invited you," Hobbie assured him. "And, to be honest, their girl/boy ratio is too low for me."

The pilots kept coming, and after the next group, Corsair, Wes turned to his best friend, "Hey, Klivi?" 

"Yes, 'Son?" Hobbie responded.

"Did we really make this many pilots?"

"Yeah, I suppose we did. I can't feel my lips, anymore. I think Corsair kissed them to death."

"Oh, dear. Poor baby."

Hobbs glared at him. "I knew I could count on your sympathy."

"I've been kissed by both the male and the female pilots. They've patted my backside a dozen times, and a few pinched me, Hobbs. Kisses are better, kisses don't leave bruises." Wes groaned, "Look at all of them. It's no wonder we're so happy to be back with the Rogues. And now, I've got the Wraiths incoming."

Sure enough, Captain Loran and his NRI troublemaker squadron were making their way purposefully toward their table. They didn't make it before Myn Donos, though. 

The Rogue Lieutenant stepped up to them from his table next to theirs and offered a crisp salute. "Majors." From behind his back, Myn produced a huge statuette. It was at least half a meter tall and composed of two stylized X-Wings rendered in flight mode. One was slightly behind and below the other, and the detail to the ships actually made it breathtaking. 

Hobbie thought so, too. "Wow. That's most... impressive."

"I know you said to buy you a drink, but I felt like you deserved a more permanent memorial for the Talons." His hands worked over the pedestal of the statue, activating a release mechanism. The base split in two and the fighters separated, so each half base now held one X-Wing. "When I saw this, a few weeks back, I ordered it. Not knowing exactly how I could actually give it to the two of you without causing serious awkwardness." He handed the first half to Hobbie with a nod. 

"Thank you for teaching me how not to die," Hobbs read it aloud and bit his lip. He nodded at Donos, "Serious awkwardness and, probably, some tears, too." He blinked a few times. Then, he stood and gave Myn a long hug. "Wes isn't the only one glad we managed to save one of our Talons," he whispered. 

Wes read his half, "Thank you for teaching me to live a better life than the person killing me." The laugh he gave was part amusement, part strangled sob. He passed his half to Hobbie and said, "Serious awkwardness. Sithspit, Myn." 

And then Wes was hugging Myn for all he was worth, and both of them were sobbing quietly. He sniffled, and noticed the huge room seemed to have fallen silent around them. He could feel all eyes were watching them, their gift exchange and their breakdown. He reached a hand back and tugged at Hobbie. 

"It's a really good gift," Wes assured Donos, between sobs. "I love it."

"Yeah, it's perfect," Hobbie agreed, joining their hug and sharing their moment of grief over the loss of their Talon comrades. "We should put it in our office." 

Wes nodded, still having a hard time speaking, and concentrating just on breathing without hitches. "Good place for it," he managed.

Donos stepped back, eyes bright and black lashes still holding a clinging tear or two. "So, Team Klivison has moved on from training to exec officering."

"Oh, we have plenty of things we can still teach you, Lieutenant," Hobbie assured him. "In fact, if you come by our office tomorrow, I have a stack of parts requisitions which need filing in triplicate, and I'd be happy to show you how to do it so the quartermasters actually buy the parts we need and deliver them to us." 

Myn grinned, "You're gonna milk this for all it's worth, aren't you?"

Hobbie's head bobbed up and down emphatically, "Yes. We must make the indebtedness stretch until next year."

"Looks like the Wraiths are getting impatient," Donos told him, glancing at the line. 

Wes sighed, "Wraiths... we aren't good at patience."

"Speak for yourself. We snipers are infinitely patient."

"One. Out of like how many Wraiths?"

"Good point." Myn didn't leave, but instead stood with the Wraiths in a show of his solidarity. A few of them gave him sympathetic pats or hugs. 

"Captain Loran. What offerings have you and your people brought for me?" Wes proclaimed, dramatically. 

Face grinned, looking over his shoulder at Myn. "We don't have anything as elaborated as Myn, the big show-off, but we have a few offerings to make, Major." Face handed him a datacard. "Start with that."

"I know what this is... Wraith Handbook?" Wes winced. "Yes." Face reached into his pocket and pulled out an elaborately wrapped box. "Open this after the reception. Trust me." 

Wes nodded, "Oh, I just remembered." He leaned to whisper in Loran's ear. "I have a small gift for you, too. Winter suggested I offer to revisit the Darkmatter bathroom incident with you in say... six months time." At the widening of Face's eyes, Wes added, "Give me time to settle into my new relationships. Less chance of my boyfriends beating the Sith out of you from jealousy."

The green of his eyes darkened until they were nearly the color of the leaves in the forest of Endor, and Face nodded, "Yeah, let's do that." He reached behind him and Dia handed him a large box. Shaking himself, Face presented the box to Wes. "Thank you, sir. For teaching us how not to die, and for giving one last chance to so many who probably didn't deserve it."

Wes shook his head, "No, not true. Each of you proved to Wedge and me you DID deserve the one last chance." He patted Face on the shoulder, "You just needed more time, training, and the right squadmates to build a solid support system to get you there." 

His fingers took a while to unravel the intricate loops of the bow, but when he finally freed the ribbon, the box opened to reveal large crystal globe carved with the continents and oceans of his homeworld of Tanaab and lit internally somehow to make it look like there were weather patterns of clouds, ocean tides and everything. "This is great. I love it. Thank you." 

Face and the Wraiths grinned happily at him. 

Runt stepped forward and offered Wes a box with no tangle of ribbon, and Janson was glad. "Runt, what is this?"

"You told us at the Sabacc tournament it is your great shame you are not able to grow plants like the people of your homeworld, so we have brought you a plant from our homeworld of Thakwaa. My people have found him to be nearly impossible to eradicate. So, he will provide you with a challenge.

"If there is no water, he will draw moisture from the air or soil, but he can go for years without water. If there is no soil, or the soil is tainted or lacks nutrients, his kind will migrate until they find soil which suits them better. If there is no sunlight, he sleeps, and can hibernate for decades until weather conditions are more favorable. If you give him too much water, ah well, we will demonstrate this to you in just a moment. If he likes you, he will produce fruit which is sweet and tastes good, even to human palates. If you have made an adversary of him, he will most likely leave and find a new home, but also his fruit will taste and smell very bad."

Wes stared into the box at the plant, which resembled one of the clay sculptures his youngest brother sent him once, but if he'd used green clay instead of blue. The body was a series of five graduated stacked spheres of green pliant plant material, then it had a concave dish shaped yellow flower with purple petals. On each side, it had an arm-like limb made of a series of three tiny spheres attached side by side. "A plant you can't kill? Is it... sentient?"

"We believe it is, at least, a little sentient, yes. "

"You call it 'he' or 'him'. Does it have a name?"

"He does not like the names we have tried to give him, so we are waiting for him to reveal his preferred name to us."

The little arms raised up toward Wes. "Does it want out of the box?" They started waiving back and forth above it's head, like a child pleading to be picked up. Janson lifted the plant out of the box and found it had no pot, but used the largest squishy green ball as a base. "How long have they kept you in that box?" Wes asked the plant. "Are you thirsty?" He picked up his water glass and tipped a few drops into the flower before Runt or Face could stop him. 

The water disappeared like magic absorbed into the surface of the flower. A few seconds later a small stream of water shot Janson square in the face, much to the amusement of everyone. Shalla stepped up and handed him a cloth napkin she swiped from another Rogue filled table.

"Forgive us, Major, we were going to let Elassar give him water, so you would not get wet, but you were too quick for us."

Narrowing his eyes as he wiped face and uniform, Wes was about to say something when something stabbed his index finger, "Ouch. Hey!" He looked down and found the plant had produced a tiny thorn from the area just under the petals edging the flower and stuck his finger. A drop of his blood was absorbed the same way the water had been. "Runt, your plant stabbed me and stole a drop of my blood."

"Oh, this is a good sign, Major," Runt assured him. "He is tasting you to see if you are acceptable."

Wes eyed Runt suspiciously, "Does this plant eat humans, Runt?" 

"No, no. It does not hunger for blood. It just wishes to analyze what you are composed of."

"He stuck all of the people who fed him," Tyria assured Wes. "Oh, look!" 

All eyes turned to the semi-sentient blood drinking plant, and the kriffing thing had sprouted a tiny purple flower at the end of one arm where a hand would normally be. "I think he likes you. He never made a flower for me." The other arm spouted a purple flower, as well, and almost as if in answer to Tyria, the plant raised both tiny flowers toward Wes like an adorable offering. 

Tyria snorted, "Fine. Maybe Runt is all wrong and the plant is a girl. Figures."

Elassar approached with a second, identical box and peered inside. "Do they have a gender?" 

"We do not believe they have a gender, but we were concerned he might become lonely while you are on base or away for missions. So, we brought a companion to act as a wingmate."

Elassar handed Wes the second box and the kriffing thing immediately poked a finger on his other hand to get a blood sample, and not to be outdone, sprouted a pink flower of it's own. 

Wes looked at them and smiled. "Thank you, Runt, I appreciate your gift. I will do my best to make sure they don't decide to leave me." He placed the first plant back in it's box as Kell approached the table. 

Tainer offered Wes a palm sized black rectangular box. It occurred to him, after Janson opened it, that there was a time when he would have been suspicious of a box from Kell and worried it just might contain a bomb. It didn't look like a bomb. It looked like... "Is this..." Wes flicked a quick glance to the nearest Rogue table. Wedge and Tycho were deep in conversation with Nawara. "Is this packet full of paint? Like from my Hoth prank?"

"It's actually hair dye. Face mixed up a special color for you to use on..." Kell's eyes flicked to the Colonel and General. "I knew what you were talking about when they told me the story. I use those pods for marking sites in demolition work. I have the machine to make them and I made you two... just in case. If something goes wrong and you need more, let me know. I hate to tell you this, but the paint back on Hoth was probably toxic. We wouldn't want the General or Colonel to go blind or anything." 

Wes chuckled, "Thank you, Kell. That is very thoughtful of you. A great gift." He gave the big Wraith a hug. This seemed to surprise him. "What?"

"You opened the box without hesitating. I was afraid you wouldn't accept a gift from me." He looked down, sheepishly. "Not long ago, Face and Shalla told me you were afraid of me back when I joined up with the Wraiths. It made me feel awful. In hindsight, the whole mess was extremely ironic. I was terrified of you. I was so sure if I stepped one toe out of line you would kill me." Kell explained, cheeks flushing pink. "And then, I learned you spent the whole time with us thinking I might be plotting to blow you up, or murder you in your sleep, or something." Kell looked into Wes' eyes. "I never would have lifted a finger against you, Major. Not ever. The thought of hurting you never once crossed my mind. Well, maybe once, when Tyria said you were adorable, but that was just normal guy dating a new girl jealousy."

Wes was speechless. This was the most he and Kell had ever cleared the air about their early times together, and the tragic history behind Kell's father's death. "I'm glad you weren't plotting to kill me," the Major stammered. "I never thought of hurting you, either, Kell. I wouldn't have been able to bring myself to hurt you, even if you were a threat to me. And the Wraiths needed you. You were more important to the success of the squadron than I was. I was prepared to bail out if you told me you wanted me gone from your sight." He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. "I've always been so sorry fo what happened to your father and what my actions that day did to your family."

Kell shook his head, "I want you to understand. The day Colonel Celchu had to turn his guns on Myn to protect Lara, that was the day I really understood what a terrible traumatic event it must have been for a new rebel pilot. I talked to the psych medics about it a lot, but I reached the conclusion on my own long before I stared with therapy. You did the only thing you could have. You weren't trying to kill my father; You were trying to stop him from alerting the enemy and save him. He wouldn't have died, if his flight suit hadn't been old and not up to standard." A tear leaked from under his black lashes. "You saved your squadmates, all the ones you could save, and it was the right thing to do. I would do anything for my fellow Wraiths." He put a hand on Wes' shoulder. "I forgave you all that time ago, and I've been too much of a coward to bring it up until today. You trusted me, just now. Thank you for that, Major. And thank you for putting up with all of our drama and mental instability."

Not really sure he needed to say anything more on the subject, Wes pulled Kell Tainer into a back slapping guy hug. "Thank you for not breaking any bones when Tyria kissed me last weekend."

"Oh, that. I wouldn't have broken your arms or nose for kissing Tyria, I might have to demanded you kiss her, again, so I could watch this time." At Wes' gasp, he added, "I got to watch her kiss Lara, once. They were really hot."

There was a low, menacing rumble from Donos, and Kell grinned at the Corellian, "Hey, I have a great idea... We should all take a trip to Corellia..."

"NO!" Face and Wes said at the same time. Both racing to put a hand over Kell's mouth. 

Wes turned a glare on Face, "Squad orgies are not a good thing. Ask Gauntlet." 

"Gauntlet gets orgies?" Kell whined to Face from under the hand. "Why don't we get group sex?"

"You had to go and tell him, didn't you? This mutiny I see coming is all your fault, Major," Face accused.

"I'm not even allowed to say those two words. I couldn't possibly be responsible."

Face complained, "Sex is all they think about. Sex and food. All they've done since the Sabacc tournament is help with the reception prep and beg to be let off from all their normal duties, so they can go..."

"I get the picture."

"I could send you holos. They send me holos. There is a contest for the least likely places to have intercourse and not get caught." Loran hissed, "This isn't in the manual you and Wedge gave me when I became CO of this bunch. You could have warned me!"

Wes thought of something, reaching into his pocket to pull out a pair of high denomination crednotes. He took Tainer's hand and placed them in his palm. "Here."

"What's this?"

Wes nodded at Face, "I owed it to Face from the Sabacc tourney. Face suggested I donate the credits to your honeymoon fund."

"Wes, we don't have a honeymoon fund."

Face rolled his eyes, "So, start one," he told Tainer patiently, nodding at the hundred credits in his hand. He pulled out two fifty cred notes from his own pocket and added them to Kell's hand. "There." 

Kell nodded, "Thank you both."

"What are big brothers for?" Wes asked with a smirk, and it pleased him when the big man gave him a genuine grin. It felt like a huge weight was lifted from between them. Wes could live with that. 

The Wraiths all filed past for their hugs and Shalla kissed Wes soundly, to the whistles and catcalls of the assembled pilots and their guests. She turned to Major Klivian and leaned over to give him a kiss, as well, where he sat. "I have a feeling you are the one to bribe if we want to know what things our big brother is up to."

Hobbie's head bobbed, his face not looking dour at all, for once. "I can be bribed."

"Great," Wes muttered. "Traitor."

Shalla patted Hobbie's cheek, affectionately. "I'll be in touch, Major."

A strange hush fell over the assembled pilots, Wes and Hobbie looked at each other and shrugged. The Wraiths parted and Wes inhaled sharply as a new pilot approached between their ranks. 

Luke Skywalker offered a small smile to Tyria Sarkin as he passed her, and Wes could see her begin to glow from the attention of the Jedi Master. It was adorable and he would have to remember to tease her about it later. If he lived to see later, that is. 

"Luke!" Hobbie called out to him, pleasantly surprised. He stood to give the former Rogue a hug. 

Wes was slower to approach the Jedi and original Rogue Squadron commander, but he was ready for it when Luke released Hobbie and turned to hug him next. "Hey, Luke." The hug was genuine and the backslaps not any harder than Luke gave Hobbie a minute before. Maybe Wedge hadn't told him, yet. 

The Jedi Master gave him an assessing look, and Wes was unsure what he saw in the other man's eyes. What he said was, "Look at the haul you two are amassing. Do you feel appreciated?"

"Yeah," Wes admitted, relaxing just a bit.

"It's good you made it, Luke. As the creator of Rogue Squadron, we wouldn't be here without your example," Hobbie told him earnestly. 

Luke grinned at him, "I would give most of the credit to Wedge. I did what I could back before Hoth, Wedge made Rogue Squadron what it is today." His gaze swung to Wes, "Speaking of Hoth..." Wes flinched and looked down at the toes of his boots until Luke put a hand on his arm and looked into his eyes. "I heard you only just told Wedge about the shower pranks you pulled on us."

"You KNEW?!" Wes yelped. 

"Wes. Of course, I knew. You told me they were cleaning mold from the pipes, and I knew you were lying."

Janson blinked, frowning. "How?"

"Well, for one, I can tell when someone is lying by the way they feel in the Force. But if I hadn't felt your spike of panic when I entered the locker room, I watched them cleaning the pipes the day before, so I knew there wasn't anyone in the showers."

"You still went in there..."

Luke patted his shoulder, comforting the prankster pilot. "I figured it was a prank, and it turned out to be a fantastic one, at that." He chuckled at the memory. "You got us good. I wasn't so quick to walk into a room with you after that."

"Are you going to seek revenge like Wedge?"

Shaking his head, Luke said, "The look on your face as you saw me walking up just now was better than any revenge prank. You were just as panicked as that morning in the showers."

Wes glared at him. "It's not funny. I thought I was in deep poodoo."

"Not from me, old friend," Luke assured him. 

Janson sagged with relief. "Oh, Sithspit."

"Hey, there was something else. Wedge and Tycho..."

"Yes."

Luke hugged him, again, whispering in his ear, "It's about kriffing time you three figured it out." He pulled back. "I really thought starting the whole ridiculous Hoth Protocol thing would have had the three of you in the same orbit long before this. Or at least casual lovers. Who knew you were all so stubborn and contrary..." He ran a black gloved hand through his hair. "The few times we crossed paths since Hoth I wanted to say something, but the time was never right."

"You CREATED the Hoth Protocol to get Wedge and Tycho and me together all the way back at Hoth?!"

The Jedi made a face. "I failed pretty spectacularly in my one and only attempt to fix the pilots in my squad up. Sorry." He looked over a Wedge and Tycho, who had approached as they were talking, but were holding back a few steps to give them privacy. "The three of you feel happier than I've ever felt you, so I supposed things have worked out the way they were meant to. Winter, too. Winter is practically glowing in the Force this week she is so happy for you."

Wes frowned. "You don't think it's odd?"

Luke put his hand up, defensively. "Whatever works for you..."

"You're not even a tiny bit jealous of me and Wedge?"

Skywalker thought about it and bit the inside of his cheek. "Well, not jealous of your relationship, but maybe worried I might not get the same sort of happiness for myself, someday. Jedi are pretty solitary."

"You'll find someone, Luke. Don't worry," Wes reassured him.

Wedge hugged Luke, then. Followed by Tycho.

Wes turned to Hobbie and hugged him for good measure. "We are good, Klivi."

"We are excellent, 'Son." He looked at the table and asked, "Can I hold your plants? They're kinda cute."

Wes nodded.

Hobbie picked up the one with the pink flower and it tried to prick his artificial hand. "Ow." He wrinkled his nose and offered the thing a flesh and blood finger. It poke him very gently and after it sampled his blood, it's flowerless 'arm' sprouted two little pink flowers making it adorably lopsided. 

"Aw. Hobbs got two flowers."

Luke looked at the plants and chuckled, "Interersting."

"Are they sentient?" Hobbie asked Luke. "Can you feel them with the Force?"

"All living things are a part of the Force." Luke studied the plants for a long minute. "When I was a kid on Tatooine, I went into Mos Eisley spaceport with my aunt to do some shopping and we found a litter of stray kittens. These feel like the kittens in the Force. Aware, playful and capable of mischief." He turned and scanned the tables for Runt, Tyria and Runt saw him signal them and approached the table.

"Master Skywalker?"

"This is a perfect gift for Wes Janson you've got here. They are full of mischief and playfulness."

"They didn't like me," Tyria told the Jedi Master. 

"No, they do like you. I sense no hostility and they accept you as one who feeds and cares for them." He gave her an encouraging smile. "They are a little afraid of you, because of your connection to the Force. You feel extra tingly and strange."

"Oh."

To Wes, Luke said, "They think of themselves as Thaks. They are a very old species on your Wraith comrade Runt's world. I think I conveyed to them they are no longer on their world, but the first of their kind on this world, and you are their protector and guardian. Except, this one really likes Hobbie. If they get into too much trouble together, maybe send this one home with Klivian." He pointed to the pink one. 

"Are they going to be homesick?"

Luke shook his head, "They are... intrigued and excited. If you put them on a low tray near a window in your apartment, I think they might just begin plotting world domination." He laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Thanks, Luke."

"Glad to help a fellow Rogue."

"Great, the Wraiths got him mischief maker plants which drink blood and can't be killed," Tycho deadpanned to Wedge. 

Wedge winced. "Perfect." He gave Wes and Hobbie each a quick hug. "Look at all your gifts."

Hobbie looked at Wedge. "We didn't get you anything, though, and we should have," he said with a sigh.

"I have you both back in the Rogues and that is all the thanks I need."

Wes stifled a yawn and Wedge smirked, "Time to take your plants home and put them to bed."

"Will someone put me to bed, too?" Wes teased.

"Ugh. I don't want to hear about it," Hobbie told him.

Tycho nodded, "I'm sure something can be arranged, Wes."

"Oh, good."


	14. Gotcha Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter. Fun. Sex. More fun. 
> 
> Warnings- oral sex, anal sex

"This is just too easy..." Wes muttered under his breath as he waited for an explosion. The tell-tale pop was followed by the shout of surprise and a few choice curses in Alderaanian, as expected. 

He waited a few minutes before setting aside the files he was barely reading and getting up from the couch, leery of venturing anywhere near Tycho's office 'fresher out of a well developed sense of self-preservation. 

"Janson..." the naked Colonel growled from inside the shower.

"Are you happy, now?" Wes purred at him from the doorway. "Not feeling left out, anymore?"

"What is this gunk and where did it come from?" Tycho demanded.

"You lucked out. It's hair dye, not paint. Good stuff quality, too. Loran wouldn't have it any other way. He mixed a custom color to be complimentary with your skin tone and the blue of your eyes."

Stepping out of the enclosure, unconcerned with the water running off his skin and hair pooling on the tiled floor, Tycho glared at him, "How did it get in my shower?" His voice was dangerously quiet. 

"That's the best part!" Wes exclaimed, full of enthusiasm. "As it turns out, Tainer has one of those machines used to make explosive paint packets, exactly like the ones from Hoth base. Apparently, they're used in demolition work. Who knew, right? He gave them to me as a gift for Trainer Appreciation Day. Wasn't it thoughtful of him? We are doing much better, now, him and me."

Tycho glared, eyes wild. "Wraiths?! Gave you hair dye bombs for Trainer Appreciation Day?"

"Well, yeah. I'm sure they have a few bets in the pools on who will be the first to prank you, since they heard the Hoth story, too. I know I definitely made some bets."

As Wes watched, Tycho retreated into the shower and vigorously attempted to shampoo the color out, to no avail. Eventually, he gave up, toweled himself off and went to survey the damage in the mirror. "My hair looks black."

"Not exactly. It's just dark because it's wet. I've been assured it will dry to a striking midnight blue with a slight metallic sheen."

"Doesn't it require ingesting a chemical agent to activate hair dye?" He slitted his eyes at Wes. "Did you put the pill in my Lomin-ale?"

"I did," Wes happily confessed. "And you didn't even notice, because the spicy Ithoran take-away you ordered us for lunch masked the taste of it." Wes went to him, pulled him into his arms and kissed him. "You're welcome, darling." His fingers ran from Tycho's shoulder down his chest flirtatiously.

Tycho's eyebrow lifted doubtfully at the endearment, "Darling?" The corners of his mouth twitching with repressed amusement.

"I thought 'Sweetie' might be a little much," Wes told him, seriously. Then, he gave a little casual shrug. "You're not sweet, you're delicious and just a tad salty." 

"Am I?"

Wes turned his most charming smile on the Rogue Colonel. "I pranked you on the squad's day off. You'll have time to get used to your hair, before the Rogues see it."

"What makes you think I won't just go find a dye reversal capsule and take it?"

Wes leaned into him just a little, and lowered his voice, "Because this is my way of telling everyone I've got you. And, I intend to keep you." He added, "You want them to know I have a claim on you, don't you?"

Tycho considered this. 

"I have a feeling the color is going to grow on you. It's already growing on me. Who knows? You might end up keeping it for a while." 

"Doubtful."

Janson pursed his lips, frowning thoughtfully. "We could make a small wager."

"What makes you so sure I'm not going to make you pay for this in some spectacular way? Very public. Very embarrassing for you." The quiet, matter of fact threat sent a thrill of promise through Wes. 

"Well, seeing as how you're still wandering around your office in the nude..." The prankster Rogue sank to his knees before his lover. "I've decided I'm going to make it up to you, right here and now... before you get too aroused and too big to blow." Wes took the soft, velvety glans into his mouth and teased it with circles of his tongue. 

The Alderaanian sighed, shifting his weight to lean against the door frame, "Are you going to prank Wedge?" Tycho groaned. "Is he getting pet names?" 

Wes let the cock slip from his mouth with a sigh to answer, "I already got Wedge. And, yes, he has a pet name, too." Everything was a competition with fighter pilots. Tycho was just less obvious about it, and Wes needed the reminding.

Fingers carding through Wes' dark curls, Tycho asked, "Can I change YOUR hair's color?" His breathing quickened and his hips started to move in time to Wes' motions, every nerve ending focusing on the pleasure of Wes' mouth as it took him in and out. 

The dark eyes squinted up at him and Wes uttered a very low grunt which Tycho understood meant 'no'.

"Did you happened to run it by Winter before you executed this prank?"

Another grunt.

Tycho laughed softly, affectionately. "Oh, boy. Winter's not going to let you get away with marking me as yours unless she signs off on it." He caressed the other Rogue's cheek. "You're so screwed, my friend." 

One of Wes' long fingers pressed at Tycho's anus, seeking entrance. Still smirking, he said, "Oh. Oh, yes. I did say the magic word 'screwed', didn't I?"

Wes hummed and Tycho felt the vibration all the way to his bottom. The finger slid in to the second knuckle and Tycho started to pant and a light sheen of perspiration formed on his forehead. "Did you think to double check the lock on the door?"

This earned him a long, expressive eyeroll.

"Good man. I was wondering...." Tycho hesitated, waiting patiently for Wes' eyes to focus on his face, and when he had his complete attention, Tycho whispered, "Would you like to bend me over my desk after you're finished apologizing to me with this stellar blow job?"

Wes froze midway to the deepest point he could take Tycho into his mouth, and gave a single long, slow blink. His chest heaved a few times as he fought to control his lust and continue his chosen 'atonement' and not immediately do what the other man had just suggested. It soon seemed the internal battle was over, as he resumed his oral pleasuring with renewed vigor.

Tycho didn't realize until that very moment it was possible for Wes' eyes to reach a darker shade of brown, but the iris' had indeed darkened at the mention of sex on Tycho's desk. Now, the eyes resembled the thick caf they choked down before all-night patrols help keep them alert. 

Those eyes held his with single-minded focus on the Colonel, his body humming with the pleasure Wes was creating. The warm fingers of Wes' free hand pinched lightly at the base of his cock to help keep Tycho from coming as his pleasure built to what he was sure would be an explosive ejaculation. 

When he reached the edge of his control, Tycho pleaded, "Let go, please, Wes. I want to come in your mouth as part of your punishment." The fingers loosened instantly and moved to slide up the length of his hard shaft, stroking a counter point to Wes' mouth. The magical fingers buried in his ass curved and circled the sensitive internal sweet spot. 

"Save me some," the blue haired Colonel requested.

As he came, Tycho clamped his lips together and threw his head back, thumping it against the wood of the door frame, willing himself not to utter the howls aching to escape his throat. Instead, he rumbled as his body went into meltdown and his hips bucked against Wes' upper body. 

Wes restrained him with little effort and the feeling of his strength pinning him only made Tycho's climax more intense. After he was completely wrung out of every drop of pleasure, Wes released his cock and pulled his fingers free of Tycho's heat. 

In a fluid motion, too graceful for his broadness and mass, Wes disappeared into the refresher and Tycho could hear the tap turn on and off as he washed his hands. Janson emerged at a quick pace carrying the only other towel Tycho had. He tossed it length-wise over all the files, datapads and items atop Tycho's desk and turned to eye the other man expectantly. He smirked and crooked a finger.

When Tycho got within arms reach, Wes pulled him against his chest to kiss him. His tongue sought entrance to Tycho's mouth and when he relaxed and opened for him, Wes shared some of the ejaculate he'd saved. His tongue quested into Tycho's mouth to reclaim it, and Tycho stopped him by gently closing his teeth on the invading tongue for a brief, teasing second.

"Mmmm. Almost as good as..."

"Don't say it. I don't want to know," Tycho warned him, voice rough.

Wes continued, undeterred, "the way your mouth tastes after you've been into your stash of Whyren's Reserve."

"Oh, that's okay, then. I thought you were planning to compare me to all the other guys you are currently going down on." Tycho teased him.

Janson snorted. "The one other man I've gone down on in recent memory is a good friend of yours, and you know how good he tastes, so it's unnecessary to brag to you."

"Just how recent would this recent memory be?"

"This morning. I had to soothe the sting of Wedge's prank, too, after all."

"What did you do to Wedge?" Tycho sighed.

Wes laughed, wickedly pleased. "Classified. You'll have to visit the General and admire my 'handy' work for yourself." 

The Colonel nodded, he was putting it at the top of his to-do list for after Wes was done fucking him senseless on his desk.

Tycho watched Wes unfasten his pants, and the sight filled him with a mix of emotions, not the least of which was raw aching desire, even after he'd just had an orgasm. He appreciated the fact Janson didn't waste time to remove his boots or pants or anything, just pushed his clothing to his knees and tugged the Colonel around to face away from him at the edge of the desk, pressing lightly on his shoulders until he assumed the position face down on the towel. He applied lube to himself and nudged the tiny opening with the swollen, copiously leaking tip of his erection. 

"Oh, yeeeessss," Wes exhaled, as he surged forward to enter Tycho. Hands ran down both Tycho's arms before they covered his and he laced their fingers together. 

Tycho sighed, "Love this. Every time's amazing. You're rock hard and on fire..."

Wes groaned. "I shouldn't let you talk me into these things. We're disobeying orders, again." The fact didn't slow his thrusts one bit.

"Don't care," Tycho huffed, relaxing and resting his cheek on his arm.

"I care," Janson grumbled, "We're gonna get caught. That will be worse than blue hair."

Tycho turned his head to look back at Wes. "Still... don't.... kriffing... care." He emphasized each word by pushing back to meet Wes' thrusts.

"We're locked in your office, for Force sake. It's not like we're bent over one of the washers in the laundry while it's on the spin cycle, but it still feels.... Oh, Force, it feels naughty and forbidden and the fact is making it doubly hot."

Tycho chuckled, circling his bottom in an effort to short circuit Wes' rant. "Definitely hotter," he agreed. 

"It was an impossible order. We never get off this base." Wes leaned over him, pressing his chest into the other man's back, and resting his weight on him, "You really never get off this base. I see you here at 0300, and want... to throttle you."

"Aw, you care."

Wes grunted, "Do care." He pulled out of Tycho and tapped his cock against the crack of his ass a few times. "Does that feel like apathy to you? You make me hard because I care."

"Innnnn," Tycho hissed. "In. Out. In. Out."

Janson laughed. "Insatiable. Big grown-up word. Fits you. Nymphomanic. That's another grown-up word." His words may have teased, but his cock was already sinking back into the tight passage where it belonged. "Also fits."

"Yes. Harder, faster," Tycho insisted in a low growl.

Wes set the pace to suit himself and his desire to make this last as long as possible. When Tycho complained, Wes kissed him into submission. He traced a heart on Tycho's right shoulder with his tongue, and then, he did it second time not with his tongue. 

When the orgasm took him, Wes was balls deep in Tycho and he came and came until some of the cream was leaking out to run down the inside of Tycho's thighs. "You might need another shower. I really made a mess of you."

"I can feel it. You are really excited by sex in my office."

"Yes. I admit it. You look really sexy bent over your desk, naked and blue haired."

Tycho kissed him. "I forgive you for the prank, but I need to wash this off." He showered quickly. "Are you coming with me to Wedge's?" Tycho asked him from the doorway of the 'fresher.

Wes shook his head. "No. I have plans."

"Better than what I have planned?"

The Major looked up and grinned at him. "I'm spent, all sexed out. So, I'm going to go do my new second favorite thing."

"The first new favorite thing being sex with Wedge and I?"Wes smiled. "Yeah, of course."

A minute later, Tycho stepped out of the little bedroom/closet fully dressed and blue hair combed. "What is this activity I need to be jealous of?" 

Chuckling, Wes finished buttoning his shirt and shrugged into his vest, patting the pockets to make sure the important stuff was still in there. "Hobbie and I are going to take on the Empire with nothing but our wits, our brains and shoulder mounted rpg launchers. Those Imperial mynocks and their AT-ATs' don't stand a chance against us."

This made Tycho smile. "Hoth or Endor?"

"Both!"

"Sounds like you'll need a swipe card."

Wes pulled a card from his breast pocket and held it up. "I got Wedge's."

Tycho opened his desk drawer and retrieved his swipe card. He offered it to Wes, "Tell Klivian I want this back in the morning. If you aren't destroyed by the Empire."

Wes took it and gave him a lingering kiss, with just enough rubbing together and groping to wake Tycho's body. 

"Sithspit, you're hot," the Colonel moaned against his neck. The skin felt hot on his lips.

"So..." KIss. "Are..." Kiss. "You..." Kiss. 

"Ugh. Go, before I regain enough strength to bend you over my desk."

Wes hopped gracefully back, just out of reach. "Nope."

"What do you mean 'nope'?"

With a defiant glare, Wes breathed, "You'd have to catch me to bend me over your desk, and that simply won't happen."

"Why not?" 

Arms crossing over his chest, Wes raised an eyebrow at him. "Because it's obviously an underhanded ploy by a former Imperial to distract me from my vitally important mission. I'm loyal to the rebellion. I can't allow you to catch me and use your huge cock to pound classified information outta me..." He tossed a marker at Tycho, the kind for marking crates, and bolted for the door. "You'll never get me and my secrets."

"You're forgetting, I know where you live, rebel scum..." Tycho called at his retreating back, getting into the role playing just a little. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Why are you here?"

"I've come to admire Janson's handiwork."

Wedge glared at him and reached for the door close button, "No."

"Aw, come on, Wedge. Can you see what he did to my hair? It's blue and sparkly. I checked. In the sunlight, it sparkles."

The General studied him, thoughtfully. "It's not a bad color on you."

"Captain Loran made the hair dye up special, just for me." Tycho groused. "I'm going to shoot him. The very next time I see him."

Wedge grimaced and rolled his eyes. "I'm going to die, someday, Tych. And I have no doubts whatsoever I won't be remembered as the Commander of Rogue Squadron, all my years as a Rogue, and they won't even be mentioned. I will be known to history as, "That idiot who started the squadron full of troublemaking reprobate intel agents." He took a step back and allowed Tycho to enter with a sigh. "Mirax is right."

"Mirax has a good head on her shoulders. Well, other than her questionable taste in Corellian men."

Wedge laughed, really laughed. The kind of from the guts laughter which took effort to stop once started. "Corran is really stiff, isn't he?"

"I'd wager people say much the same about me," Tycho reminded him.

Wedge took his hand and kissed it. "They don't know you. Not the way I do." They came together and Wedge leaned into Tycho, desperate for the feel of him, the scent of his skin. A plaintive sound escaped from his throat and he felt the other man stiffen, tightening the embrace. 

"Are you okay, Wedge?" Tycho questioned him, so tenderly, it made Wedge's soul ache. "I've never heard you make a sound like that. Ever." He ran his fingers through the other Rogue's fine dark hair, pushing it back from his face and peering into his eyes. "What did Wes do?" There were notes of icy cold, of steel. "You never make mournful sounds."

Wedge let him go and reached for the buttons of his shirt. His fingers worked them reluctantly, not wanting to reveal what lay beneath, over his heart. Separating the fabric, the Corellian closed his eyes and waited. And waited.

"Handiwork. Wes wanted me to see his handiwork. He painted his hand on your chest, over your heart."

With a second just as despairing cry, Wedge shrugged the shirt off. This elicited more of the reaction he was expecting from Tycho. "Emperor's black bones..." The Colonel breathed, whistling. He walked a circle around Wedge to admire Wes' handiwork. "What the hell happened to you?"

Wedge rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious? He kriffed me into oblivion, and then while I was in a post-coital comatose sleep, Wes marked me. To get back at me for marking his bottom with one handprint, accidentally, mind you. Wes took some sort of pigment, which he assures me is not harmful to me, and will at some point in the possibly distant future wash off or fade, and he made hand prints strategically all over me." 

With a feeling of finality, Wedge removed this pants and boxers, so Tycho could get the full 'picture'.

That did it. 

Tycho started to laugh, much as Wedge had a few minutes earlier. Laughing to the point of lying on the floor and rolling around and tears streamed down his face. 

The handprints themselves could be viewed as juvenile, but it was the positioning of them which made it so damnably funny. 

A pair of hands gripped Wedge's hips from behind. 

Hands lovingly rested on either side of Wedge's groin. 

Hands were placed on the insides of his thighs. 

Hands gripped his upper arms. 

The backside.... Well, his backside had a pair of perfect handprints, too. 

"He... he.. heeee...." Tycho tried to stop laughing enough to finish his sentence. "Wes signed you. Right over your tailbone on the left side. Signed his kriffing name above your left cheek."

Wedge nodded, "I saw it in the mirror. Kinda makes me wish my hair were blue."

Tycho paused and patted his pockets. It was there. The marker Wes had tossed at his head as a distraction before he dashed for Tycho's door. "He threw a marker at me. Right before he ran out of my office."

"He ran out of your office?" Wedge repeated, disbelieving.

"Said I was a former Imperial trying to capture him, so I could use my huge penis to fuck classified intel secrets out of him."

Wedge guffawed. Eventually, he was able to speak. "He's going to Darkmatter Alley with Hobbie to play in the RPG sims, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"I've been researching them for the base rec center..."

Tycho shook his head, vehemently. "Absolutely not. We discussed this in the last briefing. They need to get away from the base and have lives beyond the squadron. It's a new squad goal." With a sigh, he admitted, "I'm the worst offender. I need to heed my own advice."

"You're here..."

"I am here."

"What would you like to do?"

Tycho grinned. "First, I'm going to sign my name on the other side of your arse."

"The hell you are!" Wedge glared at him.

"And then, I have a little game we can play. It starts with me capturing you..."

Wedge held his hands up. "This is a ploy. Don't you see? Wes is the Imp agent and he's trying to turn you against me..." 

"I'll deal with him, later."

Wedge smirked. "I don't have any secrets left you haven't knifed out of me." 

Tycho rolled his eyes and took a step forward. "That's what they all say."

"We can't play Winter's favorite game without her..."

This gave the Colonel pause. "Winter does love capturing Rogues and kriffing information out of them."

"We could call her."

"She'll see my hair..." Tycho pouted.

"I like it."

"Traitor!" Tycho howled. "Did you know Wes drew a heart on your shoulder? Oh, Sithspit." Tycho hurried to unbutton his shirt and yank it off. He turned his head and tried to see his right shoulder. "Did he put a heart on my shoulder?"

Wedge approached his back, chuckling. "Yes. It's almost the same color blue/black as your hair."

"He used his tongue the first time he traced it, so it never occurred to me he wrote on me until just now when I saw your heart in the same spot."

They shared a look and both lost their composure and started hysterically laughing, again. 

"We asked for this, you realize," Wedge admitted. "This is Janson we're dating. He does this."

"We're idiots."

Wedge grew serious, "I really love him."

"It's hard not to," Tycho agreed. "He's so... alive." He patted Wedge's bare bottom. "Get a robe on and I'll message Winter. We can face her wrath together. Maybe, we can convince her not to vape Wes."

"I want to be present when Winter gets her hands on him."

"Yeah, I'd pay to see it."

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Oh, Sithpit!" Inyri gasped. 

Someone hissed, "Force. Would you look at that?"

"Son of a Sith. The Colonel's hair is... blue," Gavin breathed, awed.

"Is Janson dead?" Ooryl asked.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Wes and Hobbie walked in at that precise moment. 

"Still alive," Rhysati confirmed. "And not even in medical..."

Janson beamed a supernova smile at them. "Pay up. All of you."

"How did you do it?"

The Colonel looked up from his datapad. "He cheated."

"No, I didn't," Wes countered, crossing his arms and turning to look at Tycho. "The prank was legitimate."

Tycho smirked, "I think we need to let the Rogues decide." With a sigh, Tycho sat and waved everyone into their seats. "Janson slipped a hair dye activator into my Lomin-ale. And, he got the hair dye bomb from Loran and Tainer of Wraith Squadron for a Trainer Appreciation gift."

The Rogues muttered curses. 

"Blasted Wraiths. Why are they always at the bottom of all trouble?" Corran asked the obvious question they were all thinking. 

Inyri grumbled and threw a scowl at Donos. "Because they are trouble."

"Hey, wait. I didn't give Wes hair dye," Myn said, defensively. "I'm innocent."

Tycho nodded, "Innocent."

"Are we going to let them get away with pranking our new CO?" Gavin asked.

Wes turned to look at the teen, "Do not start something with the Wraiths you can't finish, kid. We do not need an all out squad versus squad prank war."

"We're just starting to improve relations with them," Asyr added, patting Gavin's arm. 

Wes heaved a relieved sigh. "I pranked the Colonel. It doesn't matter who the supplier was."

"Open for debate," Hobbie threw in. "What I find disturbing is the tainting of good Lomin-ale in the commission of this prank."

"Criminal," Corran agreed. "We can get you an antidote, Colonel."

Tycho smiled at the support. "I appreciate the offer, but I already have some."

"You didn't take it?"

"Janson doesn't get his credits if you don't see the results of his prank's success."

Rhysati chuckled. "It's an amazing color. Do you think Captain Loran can do something similar for me?"

"We should make him change all our hair colors..." Inyri agreed.

Hobbie nodded, deadpanning, "That would sure teach him."

"I have one more packet," Wes confessed. 

Rhysati gasped, "I need it!"

"Who was it intended for?" Donos asked, suspiciously.

"Wedge," Tycho told them. "Wes pranked the General with paint, instead."

Gavin's eyes were huge and round with disbelief. "Two pranks in one day?"

Wes gave the younger Rogue a broad smile with lots of straight, white teeth. "Yes."

"You really have a death wish..." Asyr told him. "I can't believe you're even alive for this briefing."

Tycho gave her a smirk. "If I kill him, I have to fill out metric tons of paperwork AND find a new pilot to replace him. Besides, death is too quick and easy for Janson's crime. I'm going to prank him back, of course."

'I'm impressed, 'Son," Hobbie told Wes. "You made Tycho's destroy list in his very first week. Good job."

"I'm an overachiever, Klivi. What can I say?"

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"What's wrong, Major?" Corran asked, brows drawn down in concern.

Wes winced at the rambunctious noise of the crowded pilot's lounge. Afternoon wasn't a great time for quiet. "Everyone is so... chattery. I'm trying to work, but I can't focus."

"You could try the XO office. Major Klivian isn't there, he's in here, so it's probably empty."

That was a great idea. "Maybe, I'll just do that."

Wes bolted for the XO office he now shared with Hobbie, and found their space to be in complete darkness. The lights didn't come on automatically when he opened the door or stepped inside. A manual control for the lights was on a side wall and he headed in that direction, feeling his way blindly when the door quickly closed behind him plunging him into velvety blackness. 

Halfway across the room something in the darkness gave a loud, shrill cackle, scaring the Sith out of Wes. He took another step forward and there was a chorus of screechy, malevolent laughter. 

The hair on the back of Wes' neck stood up, but he managed to get to the manual light control, just as a shrill voice said, "He should get the lights fixed, ha ha ha." The switch activated the illumination, and it set off another chorus of, "Ah Ha HA HA HA HAs." 

Wes spun around and his jaw dropped open, dumbfounded. The whole office, every flat surface and piece of furniture was covered in stuffed Kowakian monkey-lizards dressed in black jumpsuits. He just knew there would be fifty-four of the hideous and scary little dolls, the exact number of his pilot candidates.

Closing his eyes and counting to ten didn't help. 

At least some of the awful things had motion sensors, and as he moved past them, they cried out to him. "Pick me... Major... Janson... Major... Pick me." He fled the office and found all the Rogues in the hallway outside waiting for him, grinning madly.

"Scary little monsters, aren't they?" Hobbie asked, normally dour expression now something more akin to horror. "Makes me glad I didn't get 54 of them."

Wes bared his teeth. "They're in OUR office... They're EVERYWHERE." He shuddered. "Where did you get those things?!"

"In the magnetic capture machines at Darkmatter Alley," Asyr told him. "A pair of Wraiths helped us."

"Those backstabbing brats!" Wes hissed.

"There are more," Tycho told them, walking up to stand beside Hobbie. He pulled a monkey-lizard doll from behind his back. It wore a tiny orange flight suit and held a blaster in it's hand. The upper arm had a tiny Rogue Squadron patch. "There's a replica Rogue Squadron in my office. This one is you..." He handed the doll to Wes. 

Wes took the horrid thing and squinted at it. "How can you tell?" 

"The rank insignia and the tiny blaster." Tycho held up another doll from behind his back in his other hand. It had the Colonel's rank insignia and the motion sensor caused it to laugh and cackle, "No sex on base. Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha. No sex on base."

Wes moaned, "Oh no." He put a hand up to cover his eyes. "No."

"Oh, yes," Corran assured him. "We know all about your shower sex before the award ceremony. Wedge won the pool, so he had to tell us in order to collect his winnings. I'd wager it was his shower here on base where you turned the Colonel's hair blue, as well."

Ooryl nodded, "I did not expect the Colonel to be able to abide by such a rule, but I thought it would take more than 48 hours to be broken." He smiled his version of a grin at Wes. "And we have discussed this as a squad and decided allowances must be made for our leaders while they are mate bonding."

"You're giving us a honeymoon period?" Tycho questioned him, sounding incredulous. "I broke the rule I made. Right after I made it."

Corran nodded, "Of course, you did. It's Janson, whom we now know you have been pining for since Hoth, and you've been involved for what? A week? We're all fine with the rules not applying to the two of you. The rest of us don't have such a good excuse, do we, Gavin and Asyr?"

Asyr shook her head. "No, and we will be more discreet."

"Gavin's a teenager with a teenager's sex drive," Tycho pointed out. 

The Bothan shrugged, shifting her feet uncomfortably. "The laundry room wasn't Gav's idea. Gavin is naturally reserved, almost shy. We were testing a rumor we heard about the vibrations of the washing machines being orgasmic, but it's no excuse. I know better than to wind him up. And from now on, we will behave more discreetly while on base."

"Yes, this," Gavin confirmed. "Think of it as our way of saying thank you for not Sabacc shifting our wing pairs."

Tycho looked down, grinning. "I shelved it until I can have the Sabbac cards programmed not to shift in the middle of a mission."

The Rogues groaned. 

"Sithspit," Hobbie grunted.

"Colonel, why don't you just move into quarters on base?" Rhysati asked. "You'd have a real bedroom instead of a tiny sex closet behind your office."

Wes shook his head violently, "No. No. No. He'd never leave the base, then."

"That's just another adjustment I'm dealing with right now," Tycho told the Rogues. "I need quarters on base as Rogue CO, at least for times when I must to spend long stretches of time here. I always hesitated because I plan to ask Winter to marry me, and I want to do it soon. I don't think she'll be happy giving up her suite in the Imperial Palace for a cramped base apartment. And, I wouldn't want her to be stuck here with me all the time. That means I need to ditch up my apartment and move in with her, if she'll have me."

The Rogues gasped at the mention of his plans to wed the beautiful NRI agent, a surprised collective intake of breath. 

"Now, you've done it," Wes told him. "They're going to want to meddle in your love life." 

Tycho ran a hand through his hair. "I don't need help with Winter, thank you. I have a solid plan and a timetable. We're on schedule." He told them, sternly. "I promise."

To change the subject, Wes waved his mini Wes monkey-lizard at them. "What am I going to do with 55 monkey-lizard dolls?" Wes asked them, testily. "You got me good in there. Those things are terrifying."

"You only have to keep yours and one other," Corran assured him. "Tyria says the pale one on the desk with the black and lavender hair is our new pilot. We will dispose of the rest."

Wes looked at Tycho and screwed up his face. "I'm not the bad influence I thought I was, am I?"

"You're no worse than anyone else in this zoo. If anything, you just up the mischief level slightly, and gave them a new target."

"Why doesn't it make me feel any better?"

"Welcome to my world, Major."

THE END


	15. Bonus Scene - Payback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a small bonus scene to see how Wedge and Tycho get Wes back for his pranks.

A distant bellow roused Tycho from what had been a pleasant dream. The bed shifted as Wedge sat up beside him, eyes on the archway leading into the 'fresher. 

Wes came stomping through the doorway, gloriously nude, to stand at the foot of the bed with fists on hips and a wild, murderous glare directed at his drowsy lovers. "Which one of you did this?!" 

Tycho bit his lower lip to stop a smug grin from immediately giving him away. 

Instead of throwing him under the airbus, Wedge spoke up, "It took both of us to do it. You have enough hair for three people normal people." 

"Why?!" The irate Major demanded.

Wedge just smirked at Janson. At Wes' menacing growl, Wedge replied, "Consider this my new gravest revenge. It's been weeks and I still have those handprints of yours on my arse." 

Tycho patted the empty spot on the bed beside him, the still warm place Wes had occupied just a few minutes before. "Come back to bed... You know we'll make it up to you." 

"Eventually… maybe," Wes rumbled, still gruff enough for them to worry he might not get back into the bed. "Why this for revenge?"

"You said I couldn't change your hair color," Tycho offered with a shrug of his shoulders. "It was actually Hobbie who made me think of it." 

"Hobbie?!" Wes snarled, eyes crazed.

"Easy big fella," Tycho soothed, "We were discussing my current hair color and when I intend to go back to normal, when Derek brought up our Imperial Academy days and how you'd missed the whole shaved head experience." He gave a small shrug. "Our conversation gave me the idea, and so I presented the idea to Wedge..."

"In my defense, it took a lot of convincing," Wedge assured him. 

Tycho sat up, sliding out of the bed. He stood before Wes, and said, "If you're feeling the urge to punch someone aim it at me."

Wes' gaze was naturally drawn down the line of Tycho's body to pause his groin, where his cock jutted more than half hard from the nest of light brown pubic hair. When Janson just stared at his erection for a half a minute, the Alderaanian muttered a slightly defensive, "What?"

Dark eyes met his, serious, and Wes raised an eyebrow. "My baldness is a turn on?"

"Hair. No hair. Clothes. No clothes. YOU turn me on." Tycho gave him a lopsided grin, "I'm getting used to being half-erect all the time."

Throwing his hands into the air in frustration, Wes turned on his heel and stomped back into the refresher.

Tycho followed, stopping in the doorway a safe distance from the other man, and just watching silently as Wes examined his bare head in the mirror. 

"Where did my hair go?" Wes asked, finally. 

"It’s in a box under the sink."

Wes opened the cabinet door and found it. He pulled off the lid and stared at the surprising amount of dark curls with a frown. "Huh."

"You can have it, of course. I mean it's your hair. Maybe, you can sell the pieces to Rogue Groupies via the Holonet? They sell all sorts of stuff if you know the right markets." 

Wes picked up one of the curls and examined it. "Huh."

"Wedge and I each kept a bit, I figure someday we might run across a another Spaarti cloning cylinder."

From the bedroom, Wedge called, "No. We are NOT cloning Wes. The one we have is trouble enough."

Wes closed the box on the remains of his former curly mane and left it on the counter as he shouldered past Tycho and into the bedroom. He loomed over Wedge and his face twisted into an adorable pout. "My helmet isn't going to fit right and my head is going to get all sweaty on long missions. I could get vaped because I have sweat stinging my eyes!"

Tycho had considered this as well. He went to his dresser and pulled open the top drawer where he retrieved a folded square of black cloth. He put a hand on Wes' bare shoulder, finding it hard to be near a nude Wes and not touch him. "I thought of that. It's a good thing I still have this…" He unfolded the cloth into a meter long rectangle and held it up for Wes to examine. "They gave us these at the Academy. Let me show you." 

"What is that?"

"It's a wrap to keep your helmet on and the sweat out of your eyes."

When Wes didn't object, Tycho deftly tied the cloth around Wes' smooth head. The action, and Wes' new look, eliciting a groan from Wedge. 

"Nice," Tycho breathed, breath hissing though his teeth.

"What?" Janson demanded. 

"The effect is surprisingly…"

Wedge cut him off to finish his thought, "Sexy."

Wes spun around and went back into the 'fresher to get a look in the mirror, and this time Wedge and Tycho both trailed after him, letting him admire his reflection. "I look like a pirate."

"A hot and very naked pirate."

Janson narrowed his eyes at them in the mirror. "Nuh uh. No chance. Sleep now. Make it up to Wes sex, later." He took the head wrap off and placed it on top of the box off hair with a sigh of finality. And just like that, his anger was gone and he pushed between his lovers to climb back into his spot on the bed, grumbling adorably until he found a comfortable spot to snuggle under the covers. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

Wes braced himself for the expected the reactions by standing up straighter, squaring his broad shoulders and keeping his head held high as he walked into the briefing room. He focused on maintaining his carefully blank expression and refusing to blush or look sheepish. 

"Is that... is Major Janson bald?!" Inyri gasped loudly enough to draw the attention of all the Rogues in attendance at the morning briefing. 

Various conversations abruptly halted as all eyes swung his way, and Wes winced inwardly. The urge to back out of the room and flee grew stronger as the shocked silence dragged from a few tense seconds into what felt like hours while everyone stared, open mouthed and utterly devoid of words at his freshly shaved head. 

Well, that was true until his eyes found his best friend. Hobbie was laughing so hard he wasn't emitting any audible sounds as they were stifled by both his hands, and the bastard was nearly falling out of his chair with tears of mirth running down his face. 

Wes stalked across the crowded space to his traitorous best friend and gave him an open handed blow to his shoulder which knocked him the rest of the way out of his seat and toppled him onto the floor on his back. "You had a hand in this, Hobbs. Don't think I'll soon forget that fact." 

The threat did not seem to impress the other man, probably because he knew Wes too well. From the floor, the Major gave a guffaw of renewed laughter and curled in on himself, clutching at his middle. "Bald. Oh Force... Ah ha ha ha ha. Bald is better than naked and wearing an Ewok doll. Bald is just… brilliant."

Gavin and Asyr helped Hobbie up from the floor. 

"This is an interesting look for you, Major," Donos commented dryly, and immediately backed up a step as Wes' narrowed eyes pinned him with a sharp glare. "Not a bad look..." he backtracked, raising his hands defensively. 

From the doorway, the Colonel said, "Hair grows back more quickly than people realize. Most cadets at the Academy had to get shaved at least twice a month to keep bald."

Wes turned slowly to glare at their CO, and the air between them crackled with tension. Every Rogue seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation of an explosion. 

"We had a similar initiation in Corsec," Corran offered. "You should have seen how adorable the female cadets were when completely shaved." 

The idea of Iella with a shaved head short circuited the snarky and possibly insubordinate thing Wes had been planning to say to Tycho. And he suspected the Jedi-in-training Rogue had planned it that way. He seemed to suspect Wes' intimacy with Iella without Janson having said a word. Ex-Corsec and Jedi. Ugh. 

Donos nodded, "Not any different from the branches of the Corellian Armed Forces." He frowned, looking back into his own memories. "I think the Alliance was one of the few militaries I can think of where they didn't start everyone off with a shaved head." His hand went reflexively to his neatly cut dark hair and Myn gave a visible shudder. "It felt weird, being bald. I didn't like it." 

"I never would have joined this bunch if you'd demanded I cut my hair," Rysati told them all. "No kriffing way." 

Inyri chimed in, "Me either. My head isn't as perfectly shaped as Major Janson's."

Wes made a face and he pulled out the head wrap from Tycho and tied it on. "There. Now, you've got a winner for the betting pools and we can get on with the briefing." He glanced at Hobbie. "And I've decided to offer my hair for sale. Groupies will buy anything…" He sat on the other side of the amphitheater from Hobbie and glared at him.

Tycho called up the latest mission data and Wes' shaved head was soon forgotten in favor of sim scores and planning details. 

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"Major." Wes looked up from his stew as Face sat down across from him at his table in the Officer's mess hall. "Nicely shaved head. Interesting fashion statement."

"Not a fashion statement I would choose to make. I woke up like this. In the middle of the night. They pranked me good."

Brows drawing together, Loran asked, "Did they get you drunk?"

"I wasn't drunk, I was exhausted. They exhaust me when they gang up on me. I've never had a sleep-over at Tycho's place, so I should have known they were up to something."

Face nodded, sympathetically.

"Be glad they didn't come after you, too," Wes reminded him. "For providing me with the blue hair dye..."

Face winced, "Yeah. Hazards of a kinky multi-Rogue relationship?"

"Apparently."

Face tapped his chin, thoughtfully. "If I may ask, what did they do with your hair? Tell me they didn't toss it out."

"No. I have it in a box in my locker. Tycho suggested selling pieces on the Holonet."

"I have a much better idea," Face assured him. "I will buy the hair from you."

Wes eyed the Wraith CO with suspicion. "Why?"

"Lots of things you can do with human hair. People sell their hair all the time."

"Tycho said he'd use the piece he took to clone me the next time the New Republic finds a cloning tank in some cave."

Face laughed. "I bet Wedge vetoed that idea."

"Oh, he did."

"Sell me the box. I promise not to clone you."

"Why do you want my hair?"

Face grinned at him. "Well, for one thing, I can use it to teach the Wraiths how to make facial hair for disguises."

Wes blinked at him in surprise. "Like mustaches?"

"And beards and goatees, too. Speaking of which, as a man from a long line of ancestors who go bald early in life, I have to tell you that if you are going to rock the bald look, you should grow a little facial hair. It would make you look… Roguish and…"

Wes grunted, putting up a hand to stop him. "Wait. I'm going to warn you, now. If you say, 'like a hot pirate' I'm going to dump the rest of my stew on your head and stomp out of here in a very dramatic fashion."

"I was thinking something like that, of course, but I was going to restrain myself and say, "intimidating, yet sexy, smuggler boss," Face confessed, with a chuckle. "I just showered, so please don't waste the first decent stew we've had in months on my account."

"It's not bad," Janson admitted, stirring the vegetables around in the broth and taking another bite. "I could do better."

"You should volunteer for KP duty on your next day off. You could give these cooks a few much needed pointers."

Wes shook his head. "It would take a whole weekend to give them enough tips to make most of the stuff decent. I'd rather sim and blow stuff up at the arcade on my days off."

"Have you been cooking for your lovers?"

Wes shrugged, "A few times. Why? Are you jealous of my lovers?"

"Yes. And I'm doubly jealous knowing you cook for them, but you can soothe my bruised ego by selling me your hair."

Nodding, Wes sighed, "Fine. How much will you give me?"

"I'll give you one hundred credits for the whole box."

Wes gaped at the younger man. "A hundred?" Then, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Really? What's the catch?"

Loran reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a wallet from which he produced a bundle of high denomination cred notes. "Two fifty. That is my final offer, and we have to go to your locker as soon as we finish our lunch…" He offered Wes a hand to shake on the deal.

"Sold," Wes agreed, amiably, and they shook on it.

When Wes entered the XO office later, his hair was officially gone, but he was whistling a jaunty tune, thoroughly pleased to be two hundred fifty credits richer.

<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"What?" Tycho asked. They were on the couch in Wes' apartment, and he held Wes' head in his lap and traced patterns on Wes' bare scalp with his fingertips. 

"You're smiling." 

"I am?" Tycho asked, mildly amused.

"You are," Wes assured him,

"And this is a problem?" 

"No, not at all. This is good. I like your smile. I don't see you smile often, certainly not as often as you used to back before... You know… that bitch got ahold of you." 

"Ah." 

"I've noticed your eyes aren't as sad as they were when I first came back, too." 

"I don't have a therapist I've talked it out with, but I'm pretty sure it's you," Tycho confessed. "You make me smile and I feel more like the man I used to be..." He sighed in a distinctly un-Tycholike fashion. "Lusankya filled me with icy numbness, but I can feel it slipping out of me, a little each day, and being replaced with light and warmth."

"It must have taken some serious stuff to make you icy… You were a hot head," Wes told him scornfully. "I don't think I would have dated that you."

"Only once in a while," Tycho defended himself. 

Wes wrinkled his nose. "And you were... oh never mind."  
  
"No, please, enlighten me."

Huffing and sitting up, Wes said, "Fine. You were about as much fun as a prissy protocol droid most of the time!"

"Ouch." Tycho rolled his eyes. "Don't hold anything back, Wes. To be fair, if the Rebellion had had the budget for it back then, I would have requisitioned a 3PO to follow you around and keep you out of trouble. Wedge wouldn't approve it. I tried. Twice. He rejected the requests and told me to offer Hobbie bribes to get him to inform on your mischief instead. It didn't work. Derek's tastes are too expensive to bribe him."

"Hobbie was in on all the trouble. He never told you anything."

"Not one of Wedge's best ideas."

"You grew up while I was away training squadrons," Wes said, thoughtfully. "We all watched Wedge grow up when he took command from Luke. Now, you've grown into a commander, too." 

"You've grown some, too, Major. I'm still me." 

"Not as much as all that. Command really suits you, and you can keep it. I don't think I want that." 

"Understood. I want you to stay just as you are right now. I envy you. You could walk away and retire from the Rogues. I envy your big family and your homeworld."

"If we are making confessions, I envy your years of being together with Wedge and how you've supported each other through some rough times." 

"You're a part of us, too, now."

Wes nodded, "Yes. And you both can have my homeworld and my big family. In fact, I've been wracking my brain to come up with a way to introduce the idea of us to my parents. I honestly don't know how they will respond."

"Should be interesting."

"To say the least. They are generally fair and open minded."

"We can't ask for more than that from them.."

  
<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>_<>

"There he is… Wes! Wait up." 

Janson paused mid-stride to turn his head and look in the direction of the shout. At the end of the corridor, he could see a group of Wraith pilots approaching. They looked… exuberant as they rushed to greet him. 

"Here comes trouble," their former XO muttered under his breath. "Good morning, Wraith Squadron. What trouble are you up to on this fine day?"

Shalla stepped forward, smiling brightly at him. "Nice shaved head, Major."

Refusing to blush, Wes gave the assembled pilots a mock stern look. "Let this be a lesson to you all about the dangers of pranking. Some targets prank back hard."

"Personally, I really like it," Shalla assured him. "And we have something to show you. Face took your clipped hair and taught us how to make things with it."

"Did you make me a beard?" Wes asked, hopefully.

"Better. Took the better part of a whole week, with everyone taking turns, but we made this." From behind her back, Shalla pulled a mass of dark curls. His dark curls. "It's a wig," she assured him. "We made it." 

"A wig?" Wes eyed them doubtfully. "Wait, let's go into my office…"

Once they were all crowded into the space he shared with Hobbie, Wes crossed his arms over his chest. "Now, try running this by me, again."

To show him, Tainer took the wig from Shalla's hands and stretched it gently over his own buzz-cut. 

Sure enough, it was a surprisingly good representation of his hair before Tycho and Wedge had taken the laser clippers to his sleeping head. "Oh. Whoa. Can I have my hair back, now?"

"Of course, not," Shalla told him, shaking her head. "We need this wig for our disguises. You don't need it. You'll grow your own hair back in no time, good as new."

Runt poked a thick finger at the wig on Kell's head. "Face says human hair wigs sell for thousands of credits if the wigmaker is skilled."

Wes considered that, and the way Face had been so eager for their deal, even upping the initial hundred credits easily. "Uh huh. Why am I not surprised?" He looked at Tyria and her trademark blonde ponytail, "Are you going to donate hair for a blonde wig?"

Blinking, Tyria looked startled at his question. "I.. I guess I could. I mean we wouldn't have to take all of it." She frowned and touched her blonde tail, thoughtfully. "The thought never occurred to me, but it's not like I've never cut my hair before…" 

"But, Tyria, I love your hair," Kell whined.

She grinned at Tainer. "I've got plenty of hair, Kell, and making a blonde wig might be fun. We could try it on you…"

"Kinky," Kell chuckled. "I've never fussed with my hair. It's just hair. I wash it. It gets too long, I have it cut. End of story."

Janson turned a hard eye on Tainer, "Do not use that wig to impersonate me on base." He added as a afterthought, "Or off base, either."

"Understood, sir," Tainer promised, with a nod. There was a spark of mischief in the big man's eyes and Wes realized he'd likely just given him the idea. Great. Just great.

"Kell, show the Major what you made," Tyria ordered.

His face screwed up in what Wes could swear was a pout, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package. He turned away from the group and fiddled with something. When he eventually turned back, Kell Tainer now sported a mustache and goatee the same color as his dark, curly wig. 

"You did make me a goatee!" Wes excaimed.

"I knew he was going to want it, if we showed it to him." He gave Wes a frown, and grumbled, "It looks better on me."

Wes grinned, "I think we need to have holographic evidence and some impartial judges."

Shalla pulled a pocket holocam from one of her jumpsuit pockets. "I happen to have a holocam right here. Face gave it to me right before he sent us to show you our creations."

"Where is Face, anyway?" Wes asked, looking around.

"Hiding," Piggy grunted.

"No, he isn't. The Captain had a meeting," Dia defended their CO with an indignant huff. "We have to take holos for him."

Wes smirked, wondering if Face's meeting was a dodge as Piggy suspected. And it was just a little bit adorable to see Dia defending her lover to the other Wraiths. 

"Since Kell is in love with his mustache, you can try on mine instead. We all attempted to make them," Tyria told Wes beaming with pride. She pulled a little package from her thigh pocket and unwrapped a longer mustache and a tiny soul patch for his chin. "I was still working on mine, so I didn't get a chance to try applying one. I heard the instructions, though." 

Wes gave a little wave of his hand in acquiescence and offered her his chin. A few tiny dabs of adhesive and Wes' nose and upper lip were itchy. "Itchy," he grunted at her. 

"Yeah. I don't like the way it feels. Thank the Force I'm not a guy," Tyria admitted.

"I thank the Force every day you're not a guy," Kell quipped.

Tyria punched him playfully on the arm. "Hey! I would still love you, if you were a female."

He winked at her. "I'm better as a guy."

Shalla snapped holos of Kell and Wes and everyone gathered around her to take turns looking at them. "I think Kell could actually pass for you, if he had to, Major. Maybe, if you'd gone to the dark side and grew a goatee, or went pirate."

Wes pulled the black length of cloth from his back pocket and proceeded to tie the bandana around his smooth head as Tycho taught him the week before. 

Shalla whistled, smiling appreciatively. "Now, that is a damn fine look on you, Major."

"Pirate Wes," Runt agreed. "He will beat you to a pulp, then shoot you."

"As good as Kell looks in the curly wig and facial hair, he's not even close to looking as good as bald Pirate Janson. Sorry, but I vote Janson," Dia stated.

It was unanimous and Wes just had to stroll over to the small 'fresher at the back of the office to get a look at himself in the mirror. 

They were right. He looked good. 

"Wes! Why is our office full of Wraiths?" Hobbie called to him, obviously walking into the chaos as Wes was busy admiring himself. 

"Sithspit. Is that Tainer? Wait, is that really Tainer? I thought it was you and then I remembered… no hair."

Wes turned and moved from the 'fresher into their office. "It turns out Face used my discarded hair to make the wig Tainer is wearing, though not as well as I wear the hair, myself."

"Make him take it off. Your hair and his face, it's… creepy," Hobbie begged.

Wes turned a critical gaze on Tainer, then shrugged. "If I find out you've been pranking and making people think I did it, I'm going to fill your X-Wing's cockpit with gelatin."

Tainer gave him a panicked look, "Not again…" He pleaded, "I'll be good. I won't prank."

"I expect copies of all those holos in sent to my datapad in the next hour."

"Yes, sir."

"They shoulda shaved Face's head, too," Wes muttered.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I haven't written in many years and I certainly didn't plan to make something 69K words long. 
> 
> All mistakes and errors are mine alone.


End file.
